


Forsaken

by BSplendens



Category: Lord of the Rings - Fandom
Genre: After Mordor falls, Aimless Wandering, Animal Death, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Awkward situations, Being orcs, Big sad puppy, Cuddles, Cutting, Ex-Ringwraith, Fishing, Flashbacks, Hunting, Hurt and directionless Nazgul, Medical Care, Mourning, Nobody here has any idea what they're doing, Orcs, Panic Attacks, Ringwraith needs a therapist, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-punishment by means of self-harm, Serious guilt issues, Trauma, Violence, Warg killing things, possible PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-23 21:51:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 99,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4893649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BSplendens/pseuds/BSplendens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Witch-King was already dead when Sauron fell, and seven of the Nine followed him. Mount Doom's fire is not known for leaving survivors. <br/>One wretched being survived, though. One weak, shaky, near-dead Ringwraith. <br/>Wish him luck. He'll need it to survive what the world will throw at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Pain. 

That's the first thing he's aware of. The next thing is pressure, something heavy and  _dead_ crushing him against the ground. Choking on pain, he claws at the ground until he's managed to get out from under the- it looks like it used to be a fell beast. It's charred and broken and half-gone, nothing but a hunk of flesh and wings, and... it seems to be the only reason he's alive. The underside of the creature is relatively undamaged, save for a number of deep clawmarks... probably his doing. 

He flexes his gauntlet claws, staring dully at the beast's blood on them, then looks the big thing over. It seems to have shielded him on purpose... there's blood on the ground, as if it dragged itself over to him. Loyal things, fell beasts... like dogs. Massive, terrifying, toxic-to-most-things-living dogs. It's a good thing they're this loyal... he'd be dead otherwise, judging by how badly scorched the edges of his cloak are. That's most of the cause of his pain... his cloak helps him stay corporeal, it's a part of his frame until such a time as it's stripped away. 

But... why does he feel so weak? Hissing softly, he tries to get up, then collapses with a choked cry of pain. And it's not just his body that hurts- the ache is soul-deep, clawing at him like his Fell Beast is alive and chewing on his ribcage- or where his ribcage would be if he had one. Snarling in pain, the hurt being curls into a ball, clutching his ring hand to his chest in an effort to ease the ache. This normally works- 

But there's nothing. The ring- the ring is empty, lifeless- it's powerless. What- what could cause this? Has there- has a spell been cast, or- 

He uncurls slightly, staring around, then gives a sharp cry of dismay as he sees the tower. Or, rather, what's left of it. 

And now- now he remembers. Flying out towards the mountain to stop those ever-so-tenacious hobbits, those foolish little things- and then fire and pain and  _despair_ as the Ring,  _the_ Ring, is engulfed by the flame. It's gone. The Ring is gone, and- and with it- 

Now frantic, he reaches out with his mind, desperately seeking  _anyone-_ his kin, his master, anyone. Hell, even one of the higher-ups like the Mouth- just anyone to reassure him that he isn't alone, that his brothers-

That his brothers haven't all gone the way of the Witch-King, haven't all- 

He shudders all over, abruptly, his horrified gaze locking on a bit of singed cloth, on a gauntlet with the ring finger melted off- 

 

The wraith's despairing cry only serves to frighten off a couple of circling crows. There's nothing else around to hear him. 


	2. Chapter 2

It's a very long time before he can manage the willpower to move again. There's no reason to do anything, after all... he's got nothing left to live for. Maybe he'll just lay here and... die. Maybe. Can he even die? Mount Doom doesn't seem inclined to do much... if it doesn't erupt again, can he just starve?

What finally stirs him is the sensation of a fat raindrop slapping him in the face. Or, well- where his face ought to be. Hissing in discomfort, the wraith uncurls, then slowly props himself up with one arm and looks around. 

It's raining. Strange. It doesn't rain here... not usually. When it does, it's usually hot and toxic. This rain is cool and wet, and it doesn't smell like poison... it smells like proper rain. And it's annoying. It keeps hitting him. 

The Ringwraith (or perhaps former Ringwraith) rumbles unhappily and huddles up against the lifeless form of the fell-beast, though that doesn't work for long. The rain rapidly soaks the shattered corpse, surrounding the wraith with the scent of singed death until it's completely unbearable and he's forced to get up. Maybe he can find a shelter that doesn't smell so bad... and isn't attracting vultures. At the very least, maybe he can find a hole to crawl into... he's not terribly fond of the idea of crawling into a hole to die, but it sounds better than laying in the rain to die. And there are fewer vultures in holes. Stupid birds are following him. 

He can't walk very well. His armor is heavy, far heavier than it has any right to be, and even his cloak is weighing him down. And, after a moment or two, he's floored by a weight that smacks between his shoulder blades. Giving an unhappy noise, the wraith weakly bats at whatever's on him, then growls when one gauntlet comes into contact with something feathered. Vulture. Fortunately, it doesn't seem inclined to fight... it's only a bird, but it seems very heavy to the exhausted wraith, and he can't get up until it takes off with a dull squawk. It doesn't even take off thanks to him, he's too weak to bat it away... it evidently just decided that he wasn't edible and that the fell-beast might be easier to eat. It might. The vultures here feed on dead Orc until the weak of stomach are weeded out, and then they eat anything that dies. Except, apparently, Ringwraith. 

After a moment or two to regain his strength, the wraith pushes himself back to his feet, giving a dull noise of pain as he does so. Everything hurts... his singed cloak in particular, but everything else as well. Hissing dully, the wraith takes another step, then another, dully continuing his walk. Laying still doesn't ease his pain any... he might as well keep walking. At least it gives him something to do. He needs purpose... without a purpose, all he can do is die. He's not certain if he's ready to die. He might as well just... walk. 

 

Days are difficult to properly register when the sky is covered in thick clouds, but he manages to roughly measure time by distinguishing between when it hurts to look up and when it doesn't. The sunlight hurts his eyes. It's one tiny drop in an ocean of pain, but he can register it if he tries. And isn't that a strange thing, trying to register pain. He'd stop, but he feels like he should be keeping track of this... though he has no idea how long he was unconscious. He loses his count at one point, though... it's difficult to think. He hurts. At least he doesn't need to sleep... he covers more ground than any other being would, even considering how slowly he's moving. He can't walk fast, not with all his armor, but... he doesn't want to leave any of it. It's part of him now. And some tiny part of him, the part that still flinches away from danger despite him being functionally immortal, still hates the idea of being unprotected. The useless ring is still on his finger... it doesn't weigh much, and he can't help but hope that it might re-activate, might do something other than just exist as a piece of metal. And, if nothing else... it's a reminder. He needs to remember them. 

After at least twelve days, he's reached a tunnel through the mountains. Well... nothing in the tunnel will bother with him, he's not edible. Probably. Might as well walk in. At least he'll be away from the rain... because there's been a LOT of rain, and it's really just not nice. It makes his cloak far too heavy, and it stiffens his gauntlets with the beginnings of rust. Why is it raining so much? Was Sauron somehow holding back the rain because He knew that His wraiths didn't like water? No, that was foolish. Foolish thought.

Sauron didn't care about them.

For reasons he's unaware of, he doesn't stop walking. He could just tuck himself into an alcove and die, but he doesn't... he keeps going. Maybe he just has some sort of momentum built up, but it doesn't feel right to just collapse here... and he hasn't found a spot that feels right yet, so he might as well keep walking. Not like he has anything else to do. Maybe he'll find something interesting. Maybe he'll walk into somewhere that isn't just a broken wasteland.

 

 

When he's finally out of the cave, the wraith is surprised by plant life. Plants clinging to the rocks and dripping off of the ledges, plants creeping across the stone... more plants than he knew could grow on solid rock. And... there really shouldn't be anything growing here, not this close. The darkness, the evil should be too strong... but it's not, it's almost completely gone. Confused, he just stands there for quite a while, staring around at the plants- and not just plants, there are animals. Nothing big, but there are lizards and insects... bright insects. The wraith raises one hand slowly as a butterfly flitters past, then tilts his head in surprise when the insect lands on his gauntlet claw. This is very strange. It should be afraid of him... perhaps living near the edge of the darkness has made it used to the aura that usually frightens animals away from the wraith. 

Not just that... the other animals aren't afraid. The lizards don't seem to care that he's there, and after a short time, a small rodent -he doesn't know what- runs out and bounces right over his boot on its way into a small bush. 

Why aren't they afraid of him? Animals fear Ringwraiths, mindlessly fear them, and will run from them if given the chance. These aren't frightened at all. Even something as simple as a lizard should fear him... strange. 

Perhaps he isn't a Ringwraith any more. His ring is useless, after all... perhaps that was the source of the fear. 

Hopefully nothing larger will come along... he's not certain if an animal will attack him now that he's no longer frightening to them. He's been snarled at by mountain lions before... hopefully they'll ignore him, or at least get bored quickly.

 

After some time to study his surroundings, the wraith finds himself walking again. He's looking up more, looking around... there are things to look at now. Before, there was nothing around him but bare stone, and he'd mostly been staring at his path so he wouldn't trip. But now there are various small birds flittering around the trees, and the occasional squirrel- and those squirrels are making very angry sounds at him. They aren't attacking him, but they chatter loudly every time he comes too close to their tree, and some of them have thrown things. It amuses him somewhat, those tiny things flinging twigs and nuts at his head. What do they think he is? Do they think he's some cloaked Man, or a goblin? Silly beasts. 

A twig catches on one fold of his robe and he absent-mindedly plucks it loose, then gives in to a momentary impulse and flings it back at the squirrel. By some stroke of luck, he hits it right in the head. The squirrel's response to this, unsurprisingly, is to start chattering even louder. It bounces up higher into the tree, though, and it stops throwing things. 

Distracted by the squirrel, he trips over a root and falls flat. Grumbling unhappily, he slowly sits back up, then blinks and tilts his head slightly as he sees what's across the clearing from him. 

Deer. Three deer.

Shouldn't they have run by now? They look nervous, they're staring at him, but they aren't running. 

Gathering himself into a little ball, the wraith just watches the deer for a moment, somewhat confused by what he's seeing. There are deer very close to Mordor... why? Why aren't they running? And... there are trees. This is strange. They... they shouldn't be here. Why are- 

He knows why they're here. 

They're here because nothing can keep them away. 

They're here because the darkness in Mordor is fading.

They're here because Sauron is gone. 

The wraith tucks himself into a smaller ball, shivering, then hides his face in his hands and chokes back a sob.

Then another. 

And then he can't. 

 

The pain in his soul finally breaks, and the wraith spends probably a few hours just weeping silently, mourning the loss of his brothers and his Master. The only sounds he makes are occasional slight noises of pain, choking noises in response to the throbs of pain that stab through him with every silent, shuddering sob. He really shouldn't even be  _able_ to cry, and in fact he isn't... he's not physically capable of crying, but apparently what's left of his body doesn't know that, and he can't stop  _sobbing,_ and after a few more minutes he doesn't want to stop any more. This is actually helping... a tiny fraction of his pain is ebbing with every sob, and even though he's learned to exist with the pain, he- he wants it to stop. 

A few hours later, the wraith glances up when hot air huffs over his face, then leans back in surprise when he realizes that there's a deer staring at him. From only a couple of inches away. 

How is he supposed to respond to this? The wraith tilts his head, confused, then slowly raises a hand and tries to touch the deer. He doesn't know what else to do, so... might as well try to touch it. 

His gauntlet claws get within about an inch of the deer's neck, then it raises its head and bolts away, startled. It's not afraid of him, though- the other two bolted, so he didn't scare it away by trying to touch. There's something else. 

He doesn't want to deal with whatever that is. 

The wraith blinks, looking around, then crawls into a hollow under a tree and curls up. Hopefully it won't find him. 

Okay, this... this is weird. He's surrounded by life, a lot of life... tree roots, plants, insects, even a tiny snake. It... it's actually kind of nice, and that confuses him. Tucking himself into a smaller ball, the wraith slowly wraps a hand around one of the roots, watching a beetle crawl over his gauntlet. He could crush it in an instant, if he wanted to, but... he doesn't particularly want to. There's no sense in that... this is just a beetle. Just a tiny, shiny little black beetle. 

Shifting slightly, the wraith settles himself comfortably into place, positioning himself so that he can look through the gaps in the roots and see what's going on. 

_Elf._

There are Elves, setting something up. He can't tell what, but- but it smells of magic. Life magic. Magic born of deep woods and moss and forest springs and- and Ents- 

This is bad, this is very bad- he needs to get out of here, life magic is bad for his kind and he doesn't know what they're doing- 

The wraith tries to uncurl himself and get out, then freezes, realizing that he shouldn't- he can't. If he bolts out, he's going to be seen. If they see him, they're going to destroy him, and- and he's  _scared._ He doesn't know what's waiting for him, doesn't know what'll happen to him if he's destroyed, and- and he can't let himself be caught by them. So he stays, stays curled up, stays hidden- 

And then a chant starts up somewhere off to his right, something in Elvish, and it- 

A wave of white light flashes over him, and the wraith loses his awareness of the world. 


	3. Chapter 3

Pain spurs him awake. Horrible, twisting, wrenching pain, digging its fangs into him and raking claws down its spine. Something in his leg makes a very loud snapping noise and the wraith  _screams,_ his frame spasming, his gauntlet claws tearing into the soil around him as everything goes completely black and a searing agony crawls down his backbone. Completely past understanding what's happening to him, the unfortunate being shrieks in anguish, managing to drag himself about halfway out from under the tree in an attempt to  _get away-_ and then pain stabs through his very soul and he passes out again, unable to handle the agonizing sensation of every bit of his frame  _changing._

Claws scratch at the ground in a spasmic fashion, the wraith's frame twitching oddly, then his back arches and a series of nasty snaps makes itself heard- as if an entire backbone is being realigned at once. Not the sort of sound one would expect to hear from a being with no skeleton. 

A trembling, shuddering cry sounds, but the wraith is (fortunately) still unconscious as his chest heaves, his throat tightens, and a set of sharp teeth snap shut on nothing in particular, as his legs spasm and his trembling, shuddering frame curls in on itself in an instinctive attempt to get away from the pain. Even unconscious, some part of him is still aware of what's happening to him, and it  _hurts._

A few minutes later, the trembling subsides and the wraith's arched back slowly relaxes. He doesn't quite stop moving, though... his claws still twitch occasionally, and he keeps making soft little noises of pain. 

 

And that's probably what guides the curiously sniffing Warg to find him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's short. It didn't seem to fit into the end of the previous chapter or the start of the next one.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our wraith undergoes a very extreme change that topples him deeper into his living nightmare.  
> Fortunately, someone has turned up to help pull him out of it. Unfortunately, he's not in the mood to let himself be helped.

Once again, he's woken by pain. The wrenching agony that knocked him out is gone, but a spur of returning pain has knocked him back into consciousness. This time, though, something is very different. Everything is more intense. Not just the pain- every single sense is much, much stronger, and it's incredibly overwhelming, but forget that because  _something is dragging him out of his hiding spot by a set of jaws clamped around his leg._ The wraith hisses weakly, thrashing around for a moment, then gasps and curls into a ball as something around his ribcage tightens. And every movement tightens his ribcage even more, and what  _is_ that and  _why is a Warg the size of a horse clamped onto his leg?_

The wraith lashes out with a set of gauntlet claws and slaps the side of the warg's head, managing enough of a blow to make it let go of him. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem inclined to go away, and- and not only is his ribcage getting even tighter, his suddenly-stronger vision is flickering and starting to go black again- 

And then a powerful hand slaps his back, and someone right above him orders "Breathe!" in an alarmingly deep voice. 

Breathe? That is NOT going to help, he's DEAD. And the wraith inhales sharply, fully intending to hiss and possibly bite whoever just dared to touch him- 

Except, for the first time in centuries, the inhaling isn't just him drawing himself up for a hiss- he's actually breathed in, and- and the darkness has just receded slightly. 

Shocked and confused, the wraith abandons his weak attempts at getting up, instead just laying sprawled across the leaf litter and panting harshly. WHAT. Why is he panting? He should NOT be able to pant. He shouldn't have  _lungs._ Why does he have lungs? 

And then he completely stops caring about the lungs, because he's just realized that the rapid drumming noise in his ears is not actually a drum. That sound is, in fact, his heartbeat. Raising one hand, the wraith weakly presses a hand over the thrumming in his chest, trying to process this new information. 

Number one, he has  _lungs_ and is  _breathing._

Number two, he has a  _heartbeat._

Number three, he can actually  _feel_ his hand on his chest. Not just a vague sensation- he can feel it. And he can feel the insides of his gauntlets, like he's actually wearing the gauntlets as opposed to them being a part of him- 

Lungs. Heartbeat. Senses all fully working. Wet, sticky blood dripping down his leg from where the Warg bit him. 

_I'm alive._

 

Before he's able to properly process this massive revelation, the wraith is distracted by the careful grip of two powerful hands, by something rather large picking him up and- and putting him in its lap. 

WHAT. 

WHY is he in something's lap? And what is this? Blinking against the now-much-brighter light, he attempts to look up at whatever this is, then hisses in discomfort and huddles into a ball instead when the sun scorches his eyes- even through the trees. Ugh. No. Light. 

Forget the light, though, there is a large being holding him and there is a Warg the size of a horse staring at him from- no, scratch that, the Warg has just shoved its muzzle into his stomach. Hissing in protest, the wraith raises one hand- then freezes when his wrist is gently but firmly grabbed. 

 

"Hey, hey... Gor won't hurt ya, he's just sniffing. Easy. Really sorry about your leg... I think he was a bit overexcited. He's normally harmless... are you okay?" 

 

Why is this whatever-it-is asking if he's okay? Shouldn't it be trying to destroy him? He blinks, very confused, then turns his head slightly and manages to look up at this being. Okay, that's... odd. It appears to be a half-goblin. Its features are mostly human, though its ears are wrinkled slightly, its nose is somewhat snubbed, and its canine teeth are larger than they ought to be. It's oddly large, though- a good bit taller than the wraith, and much broader. Also, its skin is pale white, and its eyes are red. That is NOT normal. 

Why is it being so gentle with him, though? That's his real concern. He doesn't care what it is right now, because it's holding him in its lap and- and did it just try to tug his hood down? No! Hissing, he grips his hood in one hand, keeping it in place and curling into a tighter ball in an effort to hide- except he almost doesn't want to hide. This being is warm and soft and- and almost nice. Except now it's trailing its hands down his frame, wrapping a hand around his ankle- why is it-  _no-_

 

"Shh, shh, easy... I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just going to check on that leg... it probably needs to be bandaged up. Easy... I won't hurt you. Just a min- um... is your skin supposed to be black?" 

 

He's not supposed to have skin. The wraith blinks a couple of times, then becomes somewhat distracted by the sensation of his own eyelids. Wraiths aren't supposed to have eyelids. Or eyes. Or  _skin._ Shifting slightly, he stares down at his own leg, his eyes going wide as he realizes that the half-goblin is right. He has  _skin._ Why does he have skin? Confused, he slowly reaches down and taps near one of the small cuts from the Warg's teeth, then flinches at the stab of pain. Ow. Okay, that's... that's new. Normally things that hurt him just cause pain in the general area of the injury, but now the pain is concentrated in the wounds. Not just this pain... everything. Instead of just aching all over, he hurts in specific places- mostly his arm, his back, and his chest. 

 

"Okay... I need to get this cleaned out. I'm sorry, this isn't going to feel great..." his captor (is that the right word?) sighs, wetting a cloth with something that looks like water but does NOT smell like it. "Okay... this is going to sting, but it'll clean those cuts out. Gor's teeth aren't clean." the being warns, then begins dabbing at the cuts from the Warg's fangs. 

 

OW. Snarling at the stinging pain, the wraith struggles against the much stronger being, though it doesn't do him any good. Instead of slicing into flesh, his gauntlet claws stick into what feels like thick leather armor, and all he can do is hiss in pain and try to curl into a ball to get away. He does NOT like this. Half-goblins are seldom friendly, so this one is making him very nervous with its strange behavior, and- and whether or not it's trying to help, it's hurting him. Quite a lot. Also, he is currently  _breathing_ and that is not supposed to happen and  _why is his heartbeat accelerating?_

And there is a Warg with its muzzle against his chest and he still doesn't understand what's happening and  _isn't he supposed to be breathing now?_

 

"Okay then, you are definitely not alright." the hybrid mutters, then shifts the wraith in its lap, gently rubbing the frightened being's back. "Hey, hey, easy... it's alright. You're having a panic attack, looks like... I know it's unpleasant, but you're going to be okay. You're not in any danger. Just take a deep breath, okay? You're gonna be alright..." 

 

Oh, what the hell. Might as well. Claws digging into nothing in particular, the wraith takes a shuddering breath, then another, still incredibly confused by this but fortunately able to breathe. Weakly kicking out at the Warg in an effort to make it go away, he presses further back into the larger being's frame, then shudders and goes limp. This- this is just too much, too much sensation, too much to  _register-_

 

"Okay, I'm just freaking you out even more. Gor, off. Back up." the half-goblin orders, pressing on the Warg's muzzle until it backs away, then gently places the wraith so that he's sitting with his back against a tree. "There you are. Just sit there for a few minutes and catch your breath, okay? And... after that, maybe you can tell me what you are. I don't think I've ever seen anything quite like you... or, at least, I haven't seen anything like the little bit of you that's visible. It's the black skin that really has me confused... d'you just really need a bath?" 

 

No. He does not need a bath. 

So this being doesn't know what he is? Good. Maybe it'll keep him alive. Though... he's not entirely certain if he wants this thing to keep it alive. It's being way too friendly, and it keeps  _touching_ him- and anything that's this friendly and  _grabby_ always has rather...  _unpleasant_ intentions for whoever they're trying to grab. 

No. He's not going to- no. He's not going to let that happen to him. Growling unhappily, the wraith huddles back against the tree, then shivers and curls into a ball around the far-too-rapid pounding in his chest. This is- this is bizarre. He's... he's alive. He can still feel where his cloak is touching things, it's still a part of him, but... but he's alive. How... how could this happen?

Wait. What's the hybrid saying? Something about a spell? Slowly, he raises his head, managing a soft little chirp- a noise that honestly quite surprises him. He sounds... scared. Scared and hurt. And... and  _soft._ That's... that's a strange noise to hear coming from his own throat. But never mind that- what about a spell? 

 

"Yeah... there's a band of elves that have been going around casting spells to help the land recover from all of that evil. Something about putting the life back into the land. The spell really disagrees with a lot of beings... mostly goblins and orcs. Messes with my head a bit. It disagreed with you even more, huh? Just try to relax... you'll feel better in a bit. Close your eyes and take deep breaths, okay? You'll be alright. Looks like you might have had a panic attack, too... don't worry, panic attacks aren't dangerous. They're just really unpleasant. All you gotta do is breathe properly until it's over." 

 

A spell to return life to- ah. That... that might explain what happened. Maybe. It would have to be an extremely powerful spell to do  _this,_ though. The wraith shudders, staring down at himself, then slowly tugs his sleeve out of the way in order to inspect his arm. Which really shouldn't be visible, but... it is. Tilting his head, the wraith slowly taps a fingertip along his arm, then digs a clawtip into the soft black skin. It stings, but it's nothing compared to how the rest of him feels, and... and he needs to figure this out. What is he? He's not human, his skin is far too dark. And... there's no reason he would have been turned into something along the lines of an orc... so maybe this is the living equivalent of a wraith? Perhaps he's simply too twisted to be human again. Twisted, warped...  _wrong._ Wrong, wrong, wrong. The wraith shivers, claws digging into his own arm, then tenses and hisses when the large hybrid moves towards him. 

 

"Easy... I won't hurt you. You're hurting yourself, though- you need to stop, okay? Let me get you bandaged up." the hybrid coaxes, scooting a bit closer, then pulls a strip of cloth bandage out of a small leather bag. "Hey... you look confused. Has something changed? Did- did the spell do something?" it asks, then gently takes the wraith's hand, tugging his arm away from the rest of his body and attempting to wrap the bandage around the wraith's arm- though it doesn't quite work, he just pulls away and hisses. "Hey... I'm not gonna hurt you. Look... if you don't want me touching you, that's fine, but I need to get those cuts covered. Okay?" 

 

No. He doesn't want to be  _touched,_ especially not by this strange thing, and- and it's larger than him, it's stronger, it's- it can hurt him if it wants, especially since- 

He's  _mortal,_ he's flesh and bone, he can- he can die. He's  _fragile._ And that's an absolutely horrifying thought, the realization that this being can do whatever it wants to him and he's powerless to stop it. And- and there is a Warg the size of a draft horse laying a short distance away, licking its lips and staring at him. He's... he's completely vulnerable. He can't do anything about this... he can't protect himself. The wraith shudders all over, hissing weakly up at the hybrid, then chokes on a cry of pain as he shifts wrong and discovers that his leg  _hurts_ when he tries to put weight on it. Evidently some of his former injuries translated into a badly injured leg, and- and  _why is that hybrid getting closer to him-_ _  
_

Snarling, the wraith weakly lashes out with his uninjured hand, then freezes when the hybrid catches his hand- because that's where his ring is, and even if it might be useless, he- he  _needs_ his ring. Arching his back, the wraith manages a furious screech, a screech that should be enough to send the half-goblin running- except it's weak, shaky, and not half as frightening as it ought to be. His captor (that's definitely the right word) flinches back, but doesn't run- and the wraith chokes out a squall of pain when the big thing responds by grabbing him. 

 

"Hey. I need you to stop fighting me. I am not going to hurt you, but you're going to hurt yourself if you keep struggling, and you're kind of clawing your own arm open. Now... you're really scared, and I think that spell might have messed with your brain a bit. So- I am going to pick you up, and we are going to go somewhere else. Now... once we're away from all this fresh magic, I am going to bandage these cuts up, and I am going to see if I can figure out what else is wrong with you. Okay?" the hybrid croons, then scoops the wraith up, easily carrying him over towards a wooden cart. "You're light... we're gonna need to get you something to eat. I'll get you some stew." 

 

_Too much too much too much-_

The wraith thrashes weakly against the larger being's grip, unable to escape, then shudders and goes limp again as his senses are overwhelmed by  _life._ Not just the sounds of his own life, the sounds of the hybrid's powerful lungs, of its heartbeat, of its life-sounds thrumming against his frame and threatening to overwhelm him. And it's not just the sounds- his sense of smell is much more acute than that of a human, and the  _feeling_ of cloth and leather armor and  _fur_ against his frame is far too much- 

Hissing softly in distress, he shuts his eyes and just tries to block out as much as he can, panting quietly and hoping that this thing will put him down soon- and won't touch him again. He can't fight... all he can do is pray that it doesn't intend to hurt him. And- and he should probably obey whatever the hybrid wants, because otherwise- otherwise he's going to be hurt, and- and he doesn't want that. He hurts, and he wants the pain to stop. Maybe, if he obeys, he'll be given enough time to heal... if he's lucky. 

Hissing again as he's set down in the cart, the wraith stares up at his captor for a moment, then shivers and curls into a ball in an effort to get away from the sensory overload. He can't escape the pain, though- he can't do anything other than curl up and try to make it a bit better. 

A blanket settles over his frame, blocking out a bit of the sound, then the wagon rattles unpleasantly as something -presumably the Warg, he didn't see a horse- is harnessed to the front. The wagon rattles again as someone climbs in, then the wagon sets off, jolting the unfortunate wraith considerably as it rattles over stones and roots. 

He digs his claws into whatever they're touching and does his best to hold on, does his best to keep quiet, but he can't keep himself still and he can't choke back an occasional cry of pain as he's shaken around. He's been set in a pile of cloth, so that provides a bit of cushioning, but not anywhere near enough- and then his skull smashes into the edge of the cart and everything goes black. 

 

 

 

When he wakes up, he's tucked into... something. A... nest. Someone's dug a shallow hole in the ground and padded it with cloth, and then set him inside and covered him with more blankets. It... it's actually kind of nice. He's surrounded by only one texture instead of many, there's no light, and the cloth muffles most of the forest sounds. He takes a few minutes to rest, just gathering his bearings, then slowly stretches his limbs, one at a time. Hmm. There's a different sensation around where his cuts are... tighter. A different kind of cloth, tied around his limbs... bandages. Interesting. Evidently the hybrid took some time to patch him up. And... and his gauntlets, his armor, are still in place. His ring, too... it's still there. By all rights, the hybrid should have taken those away... they're weapons. 

Maybe it actually won't hurt him. 

Now... where is he? He's feeling just a bit better, so he slowly tugs one of the blankets out of his way, cautiously peeking out from under it. Forest clearing, not surprising. Warg curled up on the other side of the clearing, gnawing on what looks like a cow femur... a cow femur dwarfed by the thing's massive jaws. That is a BIG Warg. Oddly large eyes, though, and wide ears. Most Wargs have small eyes, narrow ears, hunched shoulders, and brutish features. This Warg is sleeker and a bit less brutish, and its eyes are bright and happy rather than glinting and dangerous. Perhaps this is what a Warg looks like when it's raised like a dog rather than being kept in a cave and fed dead goblins. It still looks powerful and dangerous, though, especially given its huge size. And it had dragged him out from under the tree with no effort whatsoever... he's not going to mess with that. 

The hybrid is off to the side, stirring a metal pot over a firepit. A rather interesting scent is wafting from the pot, not like anything he's quite familiar with... perhaps it's a mixture of meats, or perhaps there are spices in it. Whatever it is, it smells... interesting. The wraith jerks in surprise as his stomach rumbles, then freezes up and goes completely still as the hybrid turns towards him. 

 

"Hey there. I heard that... you're pretty hungry, huh? You want some?" the hybrid coaxes, then spoons a bit of the pot's contents into a small bowl and blows on it for a moment before slowly moving in his direction. "Rabbit and wild boar, little bit of deer. It's a bit gamey, but it's pretty good. You're really light, underweight... I think you need to eat something light at first. Maybe just start with some broth?" 

 

The wraith instinctively licks his lips at the scent, then hisses and draws back, trying to hide. No. He doesn't want to eat- he's not even certain if he remembers how. Even making noises is strange, the sounds rolling across his tongue for the first time in centuries, and... he'll probably choke if he tries to eat something. He doesn't want to choke. It seems like a bad way to die. 

Underweight? That... hm. That might explain his weakness. Maybe his low energy translated into this? It... it's definitely not good. He... he probably does need to eat something, come to think of it. He just... doesn't want to. 

His stomach does, though. His stomach keeps making noises up at him, and it's  _weird._ Feels like something alive is gnawing at his innards. He doesn't like this. Growling softly, the wraith curls into a tighter ball, clawing at his stomach in a half-instinctive attempt to get rid of the feeling- then hisses when the hybrid moves even closer to him. 

 

"Okay, still not talking... still not feeling so good, then?" the hybrid asks, moving to sit down right next to the nest where the wraith can watch. It's wearing a very large bear-skin cloak, possibly from a cave bear, and it tugs the cloak tighter around itself as it settles into place. Setting the bowl of broth down near the nest, the half-goblin takes a gulp from a larger bowl, then sets it down and looks over at the mostly-hidden wraith. "See? Nothing wrong with it. It's just stew... my ma's recipe. Everlasting game stew, it's called. Whenever it starts running a bit low, you add in some new ingredients and keep it going. There's a certain set of ingredients, though, otherwise it starts tastin' a bit weird. Nothing special in there... rabbit, boar, deer, few potatoes, coupla ramsons, an' maybe a parsnip or two. Might be out of parsnips, it's been awhile since I added those. It's pretty much just stuff that grows wild and is easy to find. The recipe is really just a list of things to _not_ add. Go on... have a taste. It's good, I promise." 

 

Smells good. Smells very good. He doesn't know much about cooking, he's long forgotten whatever he once knew, but... that does sound like it would be pretty good. And... and he does need to eat something... maybe he'll give it a try. Tilting his head slightly, the wraith slowly reaches out and pulls the bowl closer, though it's a clumsy movement- he's not used to having hands inside his gauntlets, they're supposed to be part of him. Besides... his gauntlets are hardly meant for delicate gestures, and this is a surprisingly small bowl considering its owner. Stopping lest he overturn the bowl, the wraith tucks his arms back inside the nest of blankets, then just stares out at the bowl instead of trying to move it.

Okay... he can't pick this up without spilling it. A cup might work better, but... he's not about to admit that he can't even pick up a tiny bowl. Besides... he's not certain that he can speak. Hiss and snarl and make unhappy noises, yes, but... nothing more complicated. There will be no admitting for him. 

 

"Not feeling so great? Well... you'll probably feel a bit better with something in you. Here... you want me to hold this for you?" the hybrid offers, scooping the bowl into one hand and holding it closer to him. "Here... it's alright, I know the feeling." 

 

He is NOT going to eat out of someone's hand. He's not that weak. Rumbling unhappily, he curls into a tighter ball, then blinks when the larger being chuckles. Oh. Great. Now he's somehow amusing. Lovely. Juuust lovely. 

 

"Sorry, it's just... you're acting exactly like a hurt barn cat that my ma brought in. Hissing, hiding under things, not wantin' to take food from anyone... there's a lot of resemblance. So... guess I'll do what my ma did with th' cat." it decides, scooting over and trying to move one of the blankets out of the way. "C'mon out... not gonna hurt you, I promise." the big thing coaxes, shifting so that the wraith is cornered up against its knee, then picks the bowl up and holds it where he should be able to reach. "Here... just take a few sips, okay?" 

 

NO. Hissing unhappily, the wraith hunches down into the nest, trying to lean away from the bowl. Honestly, this might be a good solution- but he doesn't want to eat out of someone's hands, it's humiliating. No. He's not going to do it. He's (reasonably) certain that he'd rather starve. Except that's evidently not an option, because the half-goblin is  _gripping his hood_ and NO- he doesn't know what's going to happen if that hood is pulled down, but it's always hurt a LOT in the past, and he doesn't know what he looks like or how the hybrid is going to react and NO- 

He tries to screech and sound angry. He really does. 

He ends up sounding like a terrified cat. 

Well, that's humiliating. 

Evidently "humiliating" is a fairly good word to describe his life now. 

Lovely. 

 

"Woah, okay- I'll leave the hood alone. Just tryin' to get this a bit closer to your face. Look... I get that you don't like the idea of this, and I get why, but... I'm not gonna make fun of you or anything. I'm genuinely just trying to help... that's all. Come on now... just take a sip, okay?" the hybrid croons, still just holding the bowl of soup up where the wraith can drink from it. "I'll leave you alone if you just drink a little bit of this." it coaxes, then sighs at another hiss and a weak swat in its direction, sliding a hand down under the wraith. "Alright then. You're freaked out, I get it, but trying to hurt me isn't going to benefit either of us. So... you're gonna get real mad at me for this, but I gotta get this down your throat. Come here." it orders, then grips the back of the wraith's neck, scruffing him like a disobedient cat and tugging him about halfway into its lap. After waiting for the indignant squalling to cease, it wraps one arm around his chest to keep him still, then holds the small bowl to his lips. "Here. You drink this, I leave you alone. Got it?" 

 

He struggles for a moment more, hissing indignantly at being manhandled, then rumbles softly and goes still. He can't get loose, this thing is much stronger than him, and...

And he can smell the broth in the bowl. It smells very, very good. Going limp against the larger being, he shivers once at the unfamiliar sensation of something pressed against his mouth, then darts his tongue out and tastes the hot liquid. And... and it tastes just as good as it smells. Instinctively opening his mouth slightly at the taste of the liquid, the wraith cups his hands carefully around the little bowl, tilting it slightly to let the hot liquid run over his tongue. He ends up sputtering slightly at the extremely unfamiliar sensation, but he doesn't try to pull away- the sensation has just reminded him how to drink properly, and he's very hungry. 

 

"There you go, that's it." the hybrid croons, clearly pleased, then tugs the bowl away when it's empty- though not without resistance. "Easy... I'm just gonna refill it, okay? You probably shouldn't have too much, but you can have another couple bowls of broth... then I'll leave you alone and let you rest. Once you've calmed down, I think it'd be a good idea for me to check you over and be certain that you aren't hurt... but not now, I know you don't trust me. And, honestly, I don't blame you." it shrugs, offering him the re-filled bowl, then twitches slightly in surprise when he lunges and grabs it. "Woah, easy- I won't take it away, I have plenty. Just got a couple of nice rabbits and some potatoes. Once you're feeling a bit better, I'll give ya a big chunk of rabbit and let you chew on it for awhile." 

 

He's still unused to being alive, and his movements are still very clumsy, but the wraith grips the bowl and drains it like a starving thing- which is an accurate description, really. Without his ring to keep him alive, he was gradually running out of energy- until now. Now he has another energy source, and- and it tastes  _good_. He... he actually likes this. He's not at all enthusiastic about drinking out of someone's hands, but... at least the hybrid isn't taunting him. It's strange, but this thing seems like it actually wants to help him. 

Once he's drained the bowl, he's offered a cup of- of water. He can smell it... and it actually smells rather good. Normally the scent of water puts him on edge, his kind don't like water, but... but he's [i]thirsty.[/i] Licking cracked lips, the wraith slowly wraps his hands around the cup, then takes a cautious little sip. Hm... that's actually not bad. In fact... 

Gripping the cup tighter, the wraith tilts it back and gulps at the water, spilling a bit but really not caring. The fresh water is cooling his throat, soothing away one fragment of the pain that's been chewing on him ever since the destruction of the Ring. He's not about to let go of this bit of relief, and he doesn't- even when the cup is empty. It's illogical, but he holds onto the cup despite the act that there's no more water in it, and he growls when the hybrid tries to take it away. No. He's keeping this. Maybe he can use it to get more water... if he can figure out where the cup was  filled in the first place. 

 

"Okay then... you can keep that. I don't think you should have any more water just yet, though... if you haven't had anything to drink in awhile, getting your stomach too full of cold water will just end up makin' you throw it all up again. I'll get ya some more water in a bit." the hybrid explains, then (much to its captive's relief) lets go and stands up. "There. See? I wasn't tryin' to hurt you, you just needed to drink something. You can go to sleep now... I won't bother you." 

 

Sleep? 

He's not going to sleep, not if he can help it. He's not about to lower what little guard he can manage, not with a Warg staring at him from a short distance away and this odd half-goblin so close to him. It doesn't seem like the larger being intends to hurt him, but... he really doesn't trust anything that's this friendly. It might not be aware of what he is, but he's still a stranger... no one is this friendly to strangers without some sort of motive. 

He's just not certain what that motive might be. 

Perhaps it's biding its time? No, there's no need for that... he's too weak to fight anything it might try to do, and it's just proved that by hauling him around like a recalcitrant cat. He can't fight, so it has no need to bide its time... 

Perhaps it simply wants to earn his trust in order to make the inevitable betrayal more painful. Yes, that... that makes sense. He's seen it happen before. Well, it won't happen to him- he's not going to trust this hybrid in the slightest. In fact, he's going to leave as soon as he can- and right now, he's going to hide. Slinking back into the nest of fabric, the wraith tugs the blankets up over himself again, leaving just a tiny gap that he can peer out of. There... now he can watch the half-goblin without being watched in return. 

Except there's not much to watch. The half-goblin is now curled up against the Warg, using the massive wolf as a pillow and seemingly falling asleep. Hm. Definitely not threatening right now. Just in case, though, he'll keep watching until he feels like he can get up. 

 

 

After quite awhile, the hybrid is definitely asleep, and the wraith is feeling better. Slowly uncurling himself, he crawls out of the nest, then digs his gauntlet claws into the ground and tries to stand up. It doesn't work well at all. He's weak, unsteady, and far heavier than he ought to be. Every inch of him feels like he's wearing lead armor, and he  _hurts._ His leg aches from that  _damned_ Warg's teeth, and his feet feel like someone's filled his boots with hot coals. Gasping softly in pain, the wraith staggers, then tenses up when the Warg twitches and growls. Hissing softly in alarm, the wraith limps away from the clearing, trying to get away from that thing before it wakes up and comes after him. That thing  _scares_ him, honestly- he's already had a taste of its power, and it could destroy him if it wanted to. And it wants to- it's proved that. He can't stay here. Hopefully he can slink away without either of them waking up... but he's going to need to keep himself quiet. It's hard, it's very hard... he's not used to things actually  _hurting_ him, and every movement is agony. But there are no other options- he has to keep moving. 

The wraith staggers slightly, instinctively grabbing for something to steady himself, and one hand claps down around a dead tree branch that snaps off with a loud  _crack._ Cringing, he glances back over his shoulder at the clearing, then relaxes slightly when the Warg and half-goblin stir but don't wake. Good. And... he might have found a solution. Tightly gripping the branch near the top, he carefully leans his weight on it, testing to see if it might be able to act as a staff. The limb doesn't snap, so he takes a cautious step, then another. Good, this... this is definitely working. Walking still hurts, but less so, and... he might be able to get reasonably far before collapsing. 

But something else has his attention... water. He can hear moving water, smell its sweet scent, and he can't help but head towards it. He's drawn towards the sound, drawn towards it despite centuries of instinct telling him to head the other way, and he doesn't understand  _why,_ but it smells so very  _good_ and he can't resist- 

And before he has too much time to question himself, he's right on the edge of the stream. Trembling as age-old instincts war with this strange new urge, the wraith takes one more step- then shrieks in shock and alarm as the ground under him gives way. He's stepped out onto an overhang that can't take his weight, and his dulled reflexes mean that he has no time to get away- 

The wraith gives a choked little cry as he hits the water, claws scrabbling uselessly at the soft bank as the water closes over him, then kicks off the bottom and manages to get enough of a grip to keep himself out of the water. Choking on what he's already swallowed, he shudders all over, then blinks and gives a startled little chirrup at the sensation of water flooding his boots. It- oh- it actually feels really good. The cold water rapidly washes away the heat and pain, soothing the burning ache, and... 

Trilling softly in confusion, the wraith shivers all over, still clinging to the bank but starting to relax slightly. Now that he's not struggling so much, he's not sliding any more- he's just draped across the bank, soaking wet but not moving further into the river. It's... it's actually not that bad. His heartbeat is racing -which is still very strange- but he's okay... he's okay. He's soaking wet, but that's... that's okay. 

In fact... 

Tilting his head slightly, the wraith looks around for a moment, then carefully rolls over onto his back and braces one boot against a submerged rock. Blinking a couple of times to get the water out of his eyes (mostly because that feels WEIRD), he watches the water's movement for a moment or two, then lowers his head slightly and takes a cautious sip. Maybe... maybe the instinctive tug is because he's thirsty? The  _need_ to get to the water is ebbing away, especially as he takes another sip, but... he actually doesn't want to get out. It's... not that bad. Maybe... maybe he'll just stay here for a bit?

Unless someone heard his initial cries. Wraiths only really have two volume settings: silent and bone-chillingly loud. He was not silent.

Judging by the crashing sounds rapidly getting closer, the Warg heard him. That... that might be bad, especially if the hybrid isn't able to keep up. He doesn't want to know what the Warg will do to him if it gets the chance. Hissing softly, he presses himself further against the bank, hoping that he might be able to keep himself out of the Warg's reach- or possibly even remain unseen. If he's lucky, it won't be able to find him- or won't be able to find him until the hybrid arrives to pull it off. 

 

The Warg gallops up, barking happily, then yelps when it tries to stop and skids on the mud. Sliding off of the bank, it splashes into the same deep pool as the wraith, then surfaces and barks happily when it notices him. Tail waving happily, it paddles in his general direction, then gives a startled cry when the wraith hisses and slaps it in the face. Treading water, the Warg whimpers unhappily, ears clamping flat to its head as blood starts to drip down its muzzle. It's not seriously injured, but the scratches do seem to be causing it to hesitate. 

"You find him, Gor? Oh, yep, you found him. Back off a bit, boy, yer probably scaring him. Go on, shoo- back." the hybrid calls, cautiously approaching the stream, then crouches and looks over the edge at the wraith. "Hey there... it's alright, Gor won't hurt you. I jus' wanted to find you before a bear did- there's a bunch of them around here. They won't come near Gor, but they might smell your blood and decide to come after ya. Hey- you stuck?" it asks, then reaches down, just offering him a hand instead of trying to grab him. "Here- grab on and I'll get ya out. I didn't bother trying to get down there to get water- just tossed a bucket down on a rope. Gor, get outta the water- you're gettin' it all muddy." 

The Warg paddles in a quick circle, then off down the stream, evidently intending to find a place where it can climb out. Evidently it respects the half-goblin enough to obey. 

 

He's... not actually certain if he wants to get out. The cool water is nice, and- oh, wait, WHAT is crawling up his leg? Is that a snake? 

No thank you. He does not want a snake under his robes, especially a potentially venomous one. Hissing, the wraith kicks out, then grips the hybrid's arm and hauls himself up- or, rather, tries to. It doesn't quite work. 

 

"Okay, up-" the half-goblin mutters, then lifts him far too easily, setting him carefully on his feet- and catches him the second he starts to stagger. "Woah, easy- you alright? Here, let's get you away from the creek... heh, you weigh a lot more all wet, you know that? I dunno what that robe is made of, but it's half your weight again all wet like that. You wanna get it off? Might be easier to stand if we let that dry out first." 

 

No. He's not taking his robe off. And he's not staggering because of the weight -okay, maybe a bit-, he's staggering because his feet  _hurt._ Hissing in pain, the wraith limps a couple of steps in an effort to get away from the hybrid, then gasps in pain and nearly falls. 

 

"Okay, you aren't just tired-" the hybrid mutters, carefully catching him, then easily lifts him before he can do more than hiss in protest. "Easy, easy- I won't take anything offa you without permission, that'd just be creepy, but we really oughta at least get you over near the fire. Besides... by the look of those boots, I think I might know what's hurtin' you. Those look real good for battle, but I doubt they're made for walking." 

 

What does that have to do with anything? Yes, the solid metal boots aren't terribly comfortable, being made for something without any real corporeal form, but... how could that be causing him this much pain? Puzzled, the wraith goes still in the hybrid's grip, just waiting to see what might happen. The Warg is gone and the hybrid is being gentle, so... maybe he'll wait and see if the half-goblin can help ease a bit more of his pain. Also... he's cold. Sitting next to a campfire sounds rather nice. Maybe... maybe he'll just stay until he's dried off. Not calmly, though... he's going to make it very clear that he doesn't like being handled this way. 

Once set down by the fire, the wraith fluffs himself out as much as possible, trying to expose the majority of his frame to the dry heat. He doesn't have much time to relax, though, because the hybrid fetches something from the cart and then sits down right behind him. And then pulls him into its lap. AGAIN.   
What is it with this thing and holding him? The wraith hisses unhappily, then freezes up when a powerful arm is wrapped around his chest. Okay, this- this is starting to look a lot like something he's seen before that always ends badly for whoever's being held- 

Hissing, the wraith digs his claws into the hybrid's gauntlet-protected arm, then kicks out and promptly gasps as the movement sends a stab of pain up his leg.  _  
_

 

"Easy, easy- I'm not going to hurt you, okay? I just- I gotta get these boots off, okay? I'm not gonna do anything to you, I promise. What do you think I'm going to do, anyw- oh. Um. Yeah, this... this is kind of a suspicious thing to do, isn't it? Well, I'm- I'm not going to do _that._  I'm not- not a rapist, okay? I tend to touch people a lot, more than most, but- but that's all. I'd  _never_ hurt someone like that- never. I'm just holding you like this because you need to get warmed up. See- this way you have your front to the fire and your back to me, and I'm warm. And I can reach your feet like this, so I can help. Just... just relax, okay? Let me get your boots off so I can help you... I think I know what's wrong." the hybrid explains, loosening its grip but not letting go. "I'm not going to hurt you... I promise." 

 

Did he seriously not realize how suspicious he was acting? It is not normal for grown beings to  _touch_ this much, especially males- and this being doesn't even know  _what_ he is, let alone who. But... but there's a very earnest look in its eyes, and... its touches are very gentle. Maybe... maybe it really won't hurt him. 

Slowly, reluctantly, the wraith goes limp against the larger being. He doesn't want to, he doesn't want to relax, he wants to run- but he can't get away. He can scratch, sure, but... it won't earn him anything. He'll end up regretting it. And... and this... actually isn't so bad. Slowly, he fluffs himself out again, then blinks and just stares at the fire for a moment. The heat of the fire against his front is nice, and... the warm frame against his back isn't half bad, either. Inhaling deeply, the wraith closes his eyes, then opens them again and slowly looks up at the hybrid.  _Well... what are you going to do?_

 

"There.. see? I'm not so bad. Now... just realized that I never introduced myself an' Gor. He's the big lug who's run off for some reason... probably smelled something interesting. Eh, he'll be back. There's nothin' out in those woods that can hurt him, and I sure don't need his help against bears." it chuckles, gesturing to the bear-skin cloak draped over its back, then looks down at the wraith in its lap. "I'm Sharpclaw. Now... I'm guessin' you won't tell me your name, so can I call you Spook for now? Just fuss at me if you don't like that idea." 

 

He does not  _fuss._ Yes, he complains, but he's not  _fussing._ He considers hissing in protest, but decides against it- it might be taken as him complaining about the nickname. Honestly, he doesn't mind the nickname... he's been called far worse. It's hardly insulting. Besides... he doesn't actually  _remember_ his name. He hasn't used it in centuries. He always communicated with his brothers and his Master over a mental bond, which meant they could address one being in particular without ever using names. He hasn't used his name in centuries, and... he's not who he used to be. For ages, he's been nothing but Nazgul. He's no longer Nazgul, which means... he has no name. "Spook" will work for now. He'll try to remember, but... he doesn't remember who he was before he was Nazgul. 

 

Unaware of the wraith's mental struggle, Sharpclaw carefully wraps one hand around the wraith's lower leg, then begins to ease the metal boot off. "Okay... this is probably going to sting. I'm sorry. Just give me a minute... there." it soothes, setting the boot aside, then winces slightly and glances away. "Oh, that's- how were you  _walking?_ Okay- that's bad, but I can help. Just let me get the other one off... okay, there. That's it." 

 

Hissing in pain, the wraith digs his claws into Sharpclaw's (fortunately leather-clad) legs, then gives a startled little noise when he gets a good look at just why he's been in so much pain. Well... that explains it. His feet are torn and blistered,  _badly_ blistered- and none of the blisters are anywhere near intact. Oh, that's... that's bad. He can't look for long, though, because the sight of his own torn skin is making him a bit queasy. He's fine with other people's shredded hides, but he hasn't had  _skin_ in literal ages, and- and that's just kind of unnerving to look at. 

 

"You poor thing... I've seen people limping from one blister, and you've got- I'm not even gonna bother counting those. I just- ow. Well... they look clean, at least, probably from you being in the stream. Don't worry, though... I can fix this." Sharpclaw whispers, then tugs a small jar of something over, unscrewing it and holding it where the wraith can see. "This is meant for blisters. I think there's just enough for now, and I can try to make more for later. Now... with blisters, you gotta keep 'em clean. That's already done. Those are all burst, so too late for trying to keep them intact. Sometimes you want to get the dead skin off, but in this case, we should probably leave it... I don't want to go messing with that any more than I gotta, and it might help keep those spots protected. I got a bowl of water, so I'm just gonna rinse my hands off for a minute... you hold this jar for me." 

 

He'd... really rather not have anyone touching his feet right now. They hurt. And the last thing Sharpclaw put on his wounds had  _stung,_ so... he's very suspicious of this jar. It doesn't smell like whatever had been used to clean his arm, but... he does NOT trust it. At all. He's expecting this to hurt. 

Instinctively flinching away as the larger being wraps a hand around his ankle, the wraith hisses uneasily, then tenses up even more when he sees the hybrid scoop up some of whatever's in the little jar. He does  _not_ like pain, and right now he's right at the limit of what he can handle- if this goes any further, he's not going to be able to handle what's happening, and- he really doesn't know what's going to happen if he reaches his pain limit. He... doesn't remember that ever happening. 

 

"Hey... it's okay. It's okay... I promise. I know you hurt, but this won't make it worse... in fact, this'll help. It's gonna make you hurt a lot less, I promise." Sharpclaw soothes, then carefully dabs a bit of the ointment onto one particularly painful-looking spot, deciding to just demonstrate. "There... see? Now... I'm gonna get all these spots covered in this ointment, then I'm going to wrap your feet up. Usually you'd want to leave blisters open, but it's better to have them covered and clean than open and dirty. Just try to relax, alright?" 

 

No, he's not going to  _relax-_

Oh... wait a minute. The ointment is soaking in now, and... and it's numbing that spot, easing away a fraction of his pain... it feels  _good._ Blinking, the wraith relaxes against Sharpclaw's frame, then looks up at it and gives a questioning little noise. 

 

"What're you all confused about? I can be gentle, and having stuff treated isn't always painful. Well- it is if you're around goblins an' such, so... guess I can see how I mighta caught you off guard with this. I was raised by my mom, though, and she's human. I don't really tend to act... goblin-y. So... just try to relax. I won't hurt you." 

 

This... this isn't actually that bad. Blinking, the wraith gradually relaxes against Sharpclaw again, just watching what the hybrid is doing. The touches are still gentle, still just light touches dabbing the ointment along his feet, and... not only does that feel good, this is a rather... rather  _submissive_ thing for it to be doing. He likes that. Submissive is good. 

It's being so  _gentle_ with him... strange. Very strange.. but good. 

For now, he'll just stay here and... and try to relax. 

And try to find a way to make his pain stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, an OC. Well, two OCs if you count the Warg. I couldn't think of any canon character who would fit my needs here (none that I can get right, at least). If our wraith had been left as a wraith, he would have gradually faded away without the ring to keep him alive. If he'd been changed but hadn't had someone around to pick him up, he probably would have either starved, been eaten by a bear, died from an infected wound, or just died of thirst. He's kinda forgotten how to fend for himself, and he's not in great shape. 
> 
> No, the half-goblin has no freakin' clue what he's currently holding. He might have made the connection if he'd seen our wraith in full, terrifying glory, but he's never seen a Ringwraith before, and our poor wraith is shaky, half-starved, and frankly kind of terrified. His body language is currently about the furthest thing from his normal regal, terrifying look that you can imagine. He doesn't know what's happening to him, he's not used to average things actually being able to hurt him, and he's not used to pain being concentrated in one area instead of just being a general all-over ache. In short, the poor thing is trapped in a living nightmare.  
> Wait until the guilt kicks in.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The far-too-large Warg tries to be friendly. It doesn't really work.  
> Then Orcs. Nasty Orcs.  
> And this entire chapter is drenched in confusion. Poor wraith really has no idea what to do, what's going on, or if Sharpclaw is going to hurt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone's wondering, Sharpclaw is referred to as 'it' because that's how our wraith is thinking of him at the moment.

Okay, this... this is actually rather nice. 

He's held gently in Sharpclaw's lap, warmed nicely by the fire, and... his feet don't hurt. Not any more. Tilting his head slightly, the wraith reaches down and lightly tugs at his bandages with one clawtip, just inspecting the soft fabric. Thanks to the bandages and a considerable amount of ointment (almost the entire jar), a considerable amount of pain is out of the equation, and... and he's actually feeling decent. Except for the fact that some parts of him still hurt, he's cold, and his stomach is making noises at him again. 

 

"Okay, that's fixed..." the hybrid sighs, finishing one last knot on the bandages, then lightly touches the wraith's lower leg and narrows its eyes. "Okay... your skin is really cold. Evidently that fire isn't doing much... I'm guessing because you're still wearing clothes that are soaking wet. Look... I'm not about to suggest that you take  _everything_ off, that'd be entirely too awkward for all involved, but maybe just the cloak? It's really not helping you right now." 

 

NO. Taking his cloak off is painful, always has been, and besides- he's not entirely certain if he  _can_ take it off right now. So, no. This won't be coming off. Grumbling softly, the wraith pulls his cloak tighter around himself, then shivers all over at the touch of cold fabric. Okay, this is- this is really kind of uncomfortable. He's not going to take the cloak  _off,_ but... he's willing to shift a bit so it's covering less of him. And- and he'll just press back into Sharpclaw a bit further, try to get more of the warmth. 

Hang on-  _why_ is the half-goblin taking its shirt off? 

 

"Alright... if you aren't comfortable, that's fine. I'm not gonna make you take anythin' off. But I'm gonna take this off, since I'm nice and warm, and you can just lean back against me. You'll dry off eventually. Oh- I bet getting somethin' nice and hot into you would help, too. You feeling hungry enough to eat something?" it asks softly, evidently remembering how much of a fight the wraith had put up before, then smiles when the response is an unenthusiastic but affirmative little chirping noise. "Alright then. Feeling steady enough to hold this yourself? It's alright if you aren't." 

 

He's... feeling better, actually. Probably stable enough, yes. Nodding slightly, he carefully takes the offered bowl, holding it firmly in both hands just to prove that he can, in fact, hold something without dropping it and/or spilling hot stew on himself. He'd rather not spill hot anything on himself, that sounds quite painful. If somewhat warming. Hm. Maybe he should find something slightly less hot to spill on himself. For now, though, he'll just drink the stew he's been given... provided it's not too hot. 

Carefully tasting the stew, the wraith tilts his head slightly, then nods in approval and carefully tilts the bowl back in order to drink from it. Liquid heat courses down his throat and the wraith  _purrs_ at the sensation, relaxing back against Sharpclaw's broad chest and going still. Oh,  _yes._

And he seems to have gotten drinking figured out. Hasn't spilled any on himself, at least, and he hasn't choked. 

 

"There you go. I bet that helps, huh? Now... you just relax, alright? I'm not gonna hurt you- just gonna hug you a bit, okay? Let's see if we can get you nice and warmed up." the half-goblin hums, then gently wraps its arms around the wraith's comparatively slender frame, carefully holding him close. "There... how's this feel? I know you probably aren't a huge fan of me holding you like this, but you gotta get warmed up. Just try to relax, alright?" 

 

He is definitely not terribly fond of being held like this. But... it's not too bad. It's gentle, at least, and... and it's  _warm._ That's one thing the half-goblin has on its side- it's a very warm being. Nice broad ribcage, too. Okay, maybe... maybe this is actually sort of nice. Little bit humiliating, but... he's had worse just today, he can't really complain. He'll just relax and enjoy the heat building in his stomach as he finishes his stew. And, hmm... there's a few large chunks of meat. Maybe he'll give those a try. He's still hungry. 

 

Gor chooses that moment to bound up, tail waving, and pant happily in the wraith's face. It immediately flinches back when the wraith raises a hand, though, evidently remembering being hit in the face. Instead of enthusiastically greeting him, it flattens itself to the ground and inches closer, tail still waving enthusiastically. Tongue lolling out, the big Warg crawls a few steps closer to them, then nuzzles lightly up against the wraith's leg. "Wurf?" 

"Hey, Gor." Sharpclaw grins, reaching down and rubbing between the Warg's ears, then hums softly in an attempt to get the suddenly tense wraith calmed down. "Easy, easy- Gor won't hurt you. He's trying to say hello, he just kinda has... really big hellos. Here... let him sniff you a little bit. He'll calm down once he figures you out. And don't worry, he won't take your food... I've got him trained. Mostly. Just... don't hit him again, okay? If you need him to back up, just push on his face- don't hurt him. He's a big ole sweetie." 

 

This is a Warg the size of a draft horse, with canine teeth bigger around than his gauntlet claws. This is NOT a "big ole sweetie". Big, yes. Sweetie, no. 

Very unhappy about having something this large and dangerous near him, the wraith fluffs himself up and hisses warningly, though he doesn't strike out. He's been told not to, and... he probably shouldn't be disobeying Sharpclaw. He needs the hybrid to stay in a good mood. If the odd being gets mad at him, he won't be anywhere near safe any more, and... and he can't fight if either one of the beings currently pressed up against him tries to hurt him. Therefore, even though he badly wants to claw its muzzle open, he stays completely still as the Warg snuffles along his leg. It doesn't seem inherently vicious, but it's sniffing at the leg that it injured earlier, and he's not certain what it intends to do to him- 

 

Much to the wraith's relief, Gor backs away after a good few sniffs, evidently scenting his fear. Tail waving, the Warg pants at the slender thing held in his master's lap, then whirls and gallops away. 

"See? He's not gonna hurt you. Not sure where he's off to, but he's pretty smart... he probably realized that he was scaring you. Come to think of it, he might be off to get you something- he tends to bring people things when he realizes that he's scaring them. Fair warning, though, he's probably going to bring you a dead thing... he gives people presents that he thinks are food. He might be after a wild boar, buuuut he might bring you something considerably less edible. Whatever he brings you, if it's not outright rotting, you should probably take it. He'll drop it on you otherwise." 

 

He... doesn't really need any dead things. At least the Warg is gone for now... that's good. Grumbling unhappily in a general expression of distaste, the wraith curls into a tighter ball in Sharpclaw's lap, instinctively tucking the bowl close to his chest to keep it from being stolen. This way he can drink it at his leisure, and he can enjoy the taste without worrying about someone stealing his food. Goblins and half-goblins often steal food from others, but this one evidently feels that he already has enough food- enough to share it, in fact. 

 

A short time later, the Warg comes bounding back up, panting happily around a mouthful of what looks like bone. Tail waving, he drops the object in front of the wraith, then nudges it closer with his snout. "Wrr?" 

"See? He's got you a present. Looks like maybe a chunk of bear skull... still got the teeth. It looks pretty clean, too, probably been out here for awhile. You want the teeth out of it? Might be useful for something- that was a big bear." 

 

The wraith eyes the Warg for a moment, cautious, then slowly reaches down and picks up the hunk of bone. It seems to be a portion of a lower jaw, and given the size of it, "bear" appears to be a fairly good guess. And... sure. He'll take the teeth. Why not. They're deeply rooted, though... he'll have to chip away the bone around then until they come loose. Should be fairly easy... the skull is old and reasonably fragile, and the bone around the teeth isn't very thick. Hm, this might be useful... this is actually a fairly good present. 

The Warg is still waiting, tail waving happily, laying flat on its stomach like an obedient dog. It's not looking up at its master, though... it's looking at him. Is it trying to... make him happy? That's very strange, but... it might be useful. And... it looks very eager to please him...

Slowly reaching out, the wraith settles a hand between the eagerly perked ears, then tilts his head when the Warg wriggles excitedly and pushes up against his hand. Hmm... it seems very happy to have attention from him. Maybe he should... pet it? He definitely wants this thing happy with him, so... yes. He'll try to pet it. 

It's been a long time since he's tried petting anything, and he's not certain exactly what to do, but... this can't be too difficult. Digging his gauntlet claws in slightly, he experimentally rubs and scratches at the bases of the Warg's ears, then blinks and twitches back when the big canine whines and pushes further into him. Okay- evidently this is working. 

A little bit too well he does NOT want a Warg in his lap- 

And he does not want a Warg laying on top of him with its muzzle shoved in his face. 

Hissing unhappily, he shoves one foot up against the big thing's chest, trying to push it away- then hisses in pain and regrets his choice of limb. Whining slightly in a very clear complaint, he does his best to get away from the (in his opinion) overly large Warg in his lap, then gives a choked noise of alarm when the big canine starts to press too hard on his chest. Not only is it painful, he can't  _breathe._ Gasping in rapidly growing panic, he claws weakly at the Warg, his struggles getting more and more frantic- 

And then the weight is off his chest and he can breathe again. Panting, he slumps back against Sharpclaw's frame, then whines and hits out at the Warg in an attempt to make sure it doesn't do that again. 

 

"Sorry, sorry- he thinks he's a lapdog." Sharpclaw sighs, pushing Gor away, then rubs gently between the Warg's ears when it whimpers at him. "I know, fella... you're just trying to make friends. He doesn't want you on him, though... you're a big boy. Stay offa him, okay?" he croons, then lightly presses on Gor's muzzle, nudging him away. "Go on- go hunt, Gor. Go hunt." he orders ,his voice soft but stern. 

Gor waves his tail in the air, panting up at the wraith, then hops up and bounds away. Several enthusiastic barks announce his position for the first few minutes, then he goes silent, evidently trying to catch himself some prey. 

"There. He'll either come back when he gets tired or when he manages to catch something, whichever comes first. Sorry, he's really friendly and a bit too big to be friendly with people. Doesn't stop him." the hybrid chuckles, reaching down and attempting to get a hand under the wraith's chest plating. "Here- let me see if your ribs are alright." 

 

At first, he's not terribly happy with Sharpclaw's attempts to get at his ribs. He doesn't know what he looks like under his cloak, he's not certain how Sharpclaw will react to finding out, and he  _really_ isn't certain what to make of this foreign feeling- 

And then the hybrid's hand settles gently across his bare ribcage, under his armor, and he gives a startled little noise in response to the warmth and sensation. Trembling slightly, the wraith manages a soft, enquiring noise, then shivers when Sharpclaw's hand slides a bit further under the armor. Evidently whatever cloth is supposed to be protecting his ribcage is torn, or- maybe he just doesn't have a shirt on under the tatters of his cloak. It's not like he's checked. But, no matter, because this feels  _good._ Soft, careful, warm touches under his armor, stroking over his ribs... 

 

"Huh.. you like this?" Sharpclaw whispers, then turns at the distant sound of excited baying. "And that means Gor's found something he wants to show me. If he could, he'd bring it back... could be he's treed a wildcat or something and can't reach it. I should probably go see what he's got... don't want him getting his face clawed off by a mountain lion. I'll be right back, okay?" it soothes, tugging its hand out from under the wraith's armor and carefully standing up. Taking a few large steps, it grabs an alarmingly large battleaxe from inside the cart, setting off at a jog towards the increasingly excited sound of Gor barking at something. "I'm comin', I'm comin'!" 

 

Somewhat to his own surprise, he whines in protest as he's set down. He was enjoying the contact despite himself, and... he doesn't quite want it to stop. Giving an unhappy little noise, the wraith curls into a tiny ball, huddling as close to the fire as he can get without risking setting himself on fire. Fire still makes him nervous, it could badly hurt him, but... he's cold, and that's enough to override his fear. 

After a few minutes, Gor stops baying, which the wraith takes as a signal that Sharpclaw is there. 

However, after approximately twice that much time again, they aren't back. Evidently this is going to take awhile. 

Which is unfortunate, because there are now multiple beings approaching through the brush on the other side of the clearing. Huddling further down into himself, the wraith does his best to be invisible, knowing that it probably isn't going to do him much good. Even if they don't think someone is there, whoever that is will probably want to steal any supplies they can get their hands on. 

Aaand... they're goblins. This could be... problematic. Slowly, the wraith puffs himself up, drawing himself up and hoping he might be able to scare them off. He's hurting, yes, but... they don't know that. He can't stand, not without a lot of pain, but... maybe he can just stare at them until they leave.

 

Evidently recognizing him, the goblins all halt on sight, staring right back at him. 

"Oi... that's a Ringwraith." one points out, slowly backing away to stand behind another in the group. "Should we... leave?" 

"Hang on. It doesn't look so good... it's sittin' down, never seen one of 'em do that. Think it's okay?" another wonders, cautiously venturing a bit closer to the clearing.

"Hey... it's bandaged. I think it's hurt." 

"Didn't know they could  _be_ hurt..." 

The largest of the six or seven goblins cautiously moves closer, staring at the Ringwraith, then flinches back slightly at an angry hiss. The hiss doesn't have as much power to it as it should, though, and it's not enough to stop it. "I think it's pretty badly hurt, doesn't look so good..." it notes, cautiously walking around the fire and standing a short distance away from the wraith. "Look, it's just hissing. C'mon, someone grab it!" 

"Does it have one of those blades? The Morgul ones?" 

"Nah. Just the gauntlet claws." the bold goblin calls, slowly moving a bit closer to him and grinning down at its potential victim.

Emboldened by their kin's success at getting so close, the other goblins slowly approach, until they're standing in a semicircle around the increasingly nervous wraith and cornering it up against the fire. 

 

This is bad. This is very, very bad. Goblins and Orcs (a couple of these look like hybrid) have never been fond of the Ringwraiths that lead them, and... there are some very malicious grins starting to show among the group. Slowly, the wraith raises both hands, hoping he might have a bit of a chance with his back to the fire- then snarls in alarm and lashes out when one of the bolder goblins lunges for him. He manages to drag both sets of claws down the sides of the goblin's head, but he's too weak to cause any major damage, and within the next ten seconds he's pinned to the ground with two goblins on top of him. He's larger than they are, but they're currently quite a bit stronger, and with two goblins on his back all he can do is claw at the ground and hiss at them. At this point, though, his hissing sounds more frightened than anything else. This is extremely undignified, but more than that, this is honestly terrifying. They are  _going_ to hurt him, that much is certain- he just doesn't know how much or if Sharpclaw will be back at any point soon. And- he doesn't know if Sharpclaw will even help him. For all he knows, Sharpclaw might be part of this group. 

 

"Well, we got it... what do we do with it?" one of the goblins wonders, looking down at the frantically struggling wraith and staying a few feet away just in case it manages to get loose. 

"I know what  _I_ wanna do with it." another chuckles, moving a bit closer with its eyes glinting in a rather ominous manner. 

"You wanna do that with everything!" one of the goblins on his back complains, shifting slightly to avoid falling off of the wraith's shifting back as he struggles. 

"Well, it's fun. Besides... haven't you ever wanted to knock all the smugness outta these things?"

"He does have a point." comments one of the more cautious ones, still hiding behind one of the other goblins in an attempt to keep itself safe. 

"Well, I don' really wanna do  _that_ to it, but... I'll watch. Might be entertaining." shrugs the other goblin on his back, absentmindedly tugging on a bit of his cloak. "Should probably figure out how to get that cloak off, first... can we even do that?" 

"I'm thinkin' we can." the evidently rather perverted goblin purrs, circling the pinned wraith a couple of times and looking him over. "Look at it. It can't do anything to fight us with the Ring gone... pathetic." 

 

His struggles increasing in desperation, the wraith digs his claws into the leg of another goblin, then immediately regrets it when it gets his already-painful arm stepped on. Shrieking in pain, the wraith strikes out again- then snarls as his wrists are grabbed. Despite his increasingly frantic kicking and squirming, he can't do anything to get away from the multiple goblins now manhandling him- and one of them is sliding a hand up his leg, evidently deciding to go along with what they seemingly consider to be a highly entertaining plan- goblins do tend to favor rather savage entertainment. 

He does NOT want to be a part of this. Squalling frantically, the wraith tries to claw at the goblin holding his hands, then bites down on the hand that tries to force his head back and pry his mouth open. There's a satisfying taste of blood for a second before the foul taste of goblin skin registers (he's fairly certain that they absolutely never wash their hands), and then he gags as sharp fingernails dig into the back of his throat. Evidently he can't bite down quite enough to discourage the goblin wrenching his head back. 

 

"Bite me again and I'll start pulling your teeth out." the goblin in question growls, its other hand tightly gripping the back of his hood. "Let's see what's under here, hmm? You got teeth, at least... and a gag reflex. We sure this is a Ringwraith? Pretty sure it's alive." 

"Oh, I'm sure. You ever see anything else dressed like this, and with these gauntlets? I dunno, maybe this is what happened to 'em when the Eye in the Sky bit the tower dust." another suggests, chuckling at the increasingly frantic sounds that the wraith is making. "It's freaked out, huh?" 

"Aw, poor wraith... are you too weak to fight us?" the goblin sitting between his shoulder blades purrs, chuckling when he feels the trapped wraith shudder and buck. "I don't care what it is, this is gonna be fun." 

 

No no no no NO- 

There are two goblins on his back, another goblin prying his mouth open and tugging at his hood, a third pinning his hands, a half-orc groping at his inner thigh, and something he can't see tugging at his belt- 

A surge of adrenaline gives him enough strength to buck the two goblins off his back, and he bites down on the fingers in his mouth as he struggles, managing to get himself onto his feet- and then something heavy slams into him and smashes him against a tree. Gasping as the air is crushed from his lungs, he claws at the tree bark in a frantic attempt to _get away,_ then shudders and bites down on a cry of panic as whichever being is pinning him shoves his legs apart with one knee. This is probably the half-orc, it's easily his size and goblins are usually much smaller, but that really doesn't matter right now because _there is a goblin pulling his belt off._  

He can't fight, he can't get away- but he can't let this happen to him! Maybe- maybe he has one last trick he can try. Ringwraiths, when needed, scream loudly enough to cause temporary deafness and put the fear of demons into the hearts of men. The fear ability is evidently gone, but the volume might not be- 

Inhaling deeply, the wraith tenses up in readiness, then _screams_ as loud as he can manage. His voice breaks halfway through the scream, but it's enough- his captor staggers back, hands over its ears, and every other goblin in the area jerks away from the sheer volume and the tiny bit of fear-power the scream still holds. It might have been more effective if he was healthier, but he really doesn't care- he has a chance to run, and he takes it. It  _hurts,_ but that doesn't matter- he needs to run- 

Unfortunately, the three smallest of the group are currently faster than him. Wraiths are fast, yes, but he's limping on both feet, and it's only a couple of seconds later that one of the goblins slams into his back, flooring him- 

And then something  _howls_ like a hell-hound and the weight on his back vanishes as something far larger snatches it away. 

The wraith rolls onto his back in an attempt at seeing what's probably about to kill him, and he's greeted by the sight of Gor shaking a goblin like a rat, fangs tearing it open as the violent shaking wrenches its limbs around and quite possibly breaks its neck- and okay, he is NOT letting that Warg near him ever again, because it  _knows how to kill._

 

Once the goblin is very thoroughly dead, the Warg drops it, then whirls and charges at the rest of the group with a furious baying noise- and he's not alone. 

Sharpclaw's axe whistles through the air, then buries itself in a tree with its blade stained red, having gone right through the orc's neck on its path into the tree. The half-goblin wrenches the axe out of the tree, kicking the headless body aside, then stalks towards the goblins that aren't being chased by Gor. _"Clear out."_  it snarls, baring a rather impressive set of fangs and suddenly going from strange-but-harmless to honestly quite terrifying. It's pulled up to its full height, its face twisted into a mask of rage as it advances on the much smaller goblins in front of it, and they don't stick around to fight- though that's probably also partly due to Gor running at them. 

Like his master, Gor no longer looks happy and friendly. Its ears are pinned back, its fangs are bared, and its gait has gone from happy lolloping to intently focused charges. Barking angrily, it lunges at one of the larger remaining goblins, very narrowly missing it and sending it running. The goblins are armed with knives and crude bows, and evidently none of them are willing to fight a horse-sized Warg while armed with only a knife- especially not a Warg that's just torn one of their kin wide open and is backed up by a very large, very angry half-goblin.

Once it's clear that the goblins are going to keep running, Sharpclaw drops the axe and turns around, cautiously approaching the huddled ball of hurt, frightened wraith. "Hey... hey, it's alright, they're gone." it whispers, slowly kneeling in front of him and plainly looking him over. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?" it asks, its red eyes now soft and worried instead of hard and angry. "Hey... it's okay, Spook, I'm not going to hurt you... I promise. Here... let me look you over a bit, okay? I won't hurt you, I just want to check and be sure that you're alright." 

 

He does  _not_ want to be touched right now, especially by something that just beheaded someone in one blow- which is not an easy thing to do. Besides- friendly or not, this is a half-goblin, and goblins were the ones trying to hurt him just moments ago- 

Hissing, the wraith scrambles backwards until he's pressed up against a tree, then whimpers softly as the adrenaline begins to fade and the pain starts to register again. His feet hurt more now, and his arm (which was already rather painful both from his initial fall and from him digging his claws into it earlier) has a boot-shaped bruise rapidly forming. He  _hurts,_ and- 

And Sharpclaw is the only thing that's eased his pain recently. Maybe... maybe the hybrid can do something about this? But he doesn't want to be touched by- 

Except... the hybrid isn't pushing it. Instead of trying to grab him, Sharpclaw is sitting a short distance away, still just offering a hand instead of trying to pull him closer. That... that's not threatening. 

A combination of rapidly waning adrenaline, increasing awareness of pain, and the realization of how cold he's getting finally forces him to move. Slowly, he moves just a bit closer to Sharpclaw, then tenses when he's gathered ever-so-carefully into the hybrid's lap. 

 

"Easy, easy... oh, you're  _cold."_ Sharpclaw whispers, carefully carrying the shivering wraith over to the fire, then sits down and gathers the smaller being into its lap. "You're shaking." it whispers, then wraps its bear-skin cloak carefully around them both, slowly stroking along the edges of the wraith's chest plating. "Hey... you seemed like you were enjoying when I had my hands under this armor, and your skin is really cold... and for some reason, you don't entirely seem to be wearing a shirt. I'm guessing you want to keep that armor on, so how would you feel about me just sliding my hands under it to help you warm up?" 

 

That... that might be a bit odd, but sure. It... it might be nice. And.. he doesn't feel like struggling. He just- just wants to stop hurting, wants to stop being so _cold._ The wraith nods a tiny bit in a gesture of permission, leaning back against Sharpclaw's frame, then shivers when he feels the hybrid's hands starting to slide under his armor. Normally he'd protest, but... honestly, it feels good. Sharpclaw's hands are warm, and... and he doesn't know what to do with this sensation, but he does know that he likes it. A soft, confused little noise escapes him, then he shivers and presses into the touch, trying to get a bit more contact. 

 

"You need a bit more touch, huh?" Sharpclaw whispers, and much to the wraith's surprise, there's no hint of mockery in his voice. "C'mere. Have you been alone for awhile? You might be a bit touch-starved, and that's okay... there's nothing wrong with needing some attention. Just let me know if I do anything you don't like." 

 

Gradually, the wraith's quivering ceases. Looking up at Sharpclaw, he tilts his head slightly, then slowly raises one hand and lightly pats at the hybrid's arm in a somewhat hesitant attempt to express his thanks. Those goblins had been moments away from  _hurting_ him, and... and he hadn't been able to stop them. Sharpclaw had stopped them, though, had... had saved him. 

It takes him a moment to recognize what he's feeling- gratitude is something he hasn't felt in a very long time. Then again, he hasn't needed help in a very long time. "Prr." he ventures, a half-purring noise that's the closest thing he can get to speaking right now, then he just goes limp against the hybrid's frame and shuts his eyes for a moment. Okay, this... this actually isn't bad. Aside from the smell of goblin blood. 

 And... touch-starved? He hasn't ever heard that term before, but... it does make sense. Ringwraiths don't touch often, but he's been in constant mental contact with his brothers for ages, up until just very recently. He hadn't been able to name the feeling until now, but... he's lonely. Some part of his mind is still weakly reaching out over the broken links, trying to find the others, and- and there's nothing. Sharpclaw doesn't have a mental link with him (and he'd like to keep it that way, thanks), but... this is the closest thing he can get to the comforting presence of his brothers and Lord. Shifting slightly, he curls into a tighter ball in Sharpclaw's lap, claws grasping the thick hide of the bearskin cloak in a tentative search for comfort. 

 

"There you go... you're alright." Sharpclaw croons, then removes one hand from under his armor, reaching up to lightly slide two fingertips under his hood. "I think you might be bleeding... is this your blood?" 

 

He's really not certain, his mouth tastes like goblin. Evidently goblins do _not_ wash their hands. He'd like this taste out of his mouth, buuut he doesn't want Sharpclaw's hands near his face, thank you. Leaning back slightly, he hisses softly up at the hybrid, though it isn't too loud... he's not angry, he's just voicing a protest. He doesn't like being examined like this, and he definitely doesn't want Sharpclaw touching his face or pulling his hood down... not now, and possibly not ever. It depends on what he looks like under the hood... he should find a pool of water somewhere he can use to check. 

Later. Right now, he hurts, and he's tired and shaken. He's being held gently, there's a nice warm hand against his far-too-cold skin, and... and Sharpclaw is rubbing the back of his neck now, rubbing through his hood, and it feels... mmh. That's good. But... there's one thing he needs to fix. Reaching down, the wraith wraps clumsy hands around his belt, shakily attempting to buckle it again. It's not working terribly well, though... his gauntlets aren't made for delicate work, he isn't used to moving his hands with his gauntlets inside them, and he's still shaking. A lot. 

 

"Okay, okay... I'll leave your face alone. Maybe we can see about that when you calm down. And speaking of..." Sharpclaw whispers, pulling the wraith just a bit closer and carefully holding him. "Try to calm down, okay?" its croons, its voice soft and gentle as it speaks to him. "I know you're really freaked out, and that's okay, that's perfectly fine... it's completely understandable. I'm not telling you that you shouldn't be scared, but you should try to calm down a bit... alright? Just shut your eyes and focus on your breathing... it's okay. You're safe. I'm here, and Gor is... somewhere. Actually, he might still be chasing those goblins, but he'll be fine. He'll chase them until they get away, he gets bored, or he trounces them all to his liking. Normally I'd try to get him back, but... not after what they tried. He can beat them all up for all I care." 

 

The wraith hisses slightly in protest at being tugged closer, then just curls tighter into himself, pulling his belt up with both hands and holding it in lieu of buckling it. He can't buckle this right now... he'll just have to wait until he can stop shaking. Which... might take awhile, at this rate. His shaking hasn't even eased up. He'd  _like_ it to, but there doesn't seem to be much he can do. Aside from, well... take the suggestion. Closing his eyes, he rests both hands on his stomach, focusing on his breathing- then shivers all over, because being fully aware of his own breathing is  _weird._ This... might be relaxing for some people, but not so much for someone who isn't used to being alive. But... he doesn't have much else to do. Maybe he'll just try this for a bit longer... it might help him get used to being alive. This is permanent, after all... eventually, he has to get used to it. 

It's just so  _strange._ As a Ringwraith, he had a general awareness of himself, but he didn't really have a body. The only time he could feel any specific sensation in anything was if something that wasn't part of him was in contact with his frame. But now, he's aware of every bit of his frame... including a few parts that Ringwraiths don't have. Hm. Pulling his pants up this far isn't terribly comfortable. Maybe he'll just slooowly let go of his belt... 

And get distracted by how his hands feel inside his gauntlets. Slowly flexing his fingers, he watches the gauntlet plates slide over each other, then cautiously grips the back of one gauntlet and tugs. It doesn't come off, but it gives, and he can see the straps holding it on. He'd... like to take this off. The other one, he might keep on... just for now. It's protecting his ring. 

 

"Here, I'll get those straps loosened a bit. Those gauntlets look like they could use a good polish." Sharpclaw hums, gently unfastening the straps, then holds the gauntlet so that he can pull his hand out. "There you go... you want to get the other one off?" he asks, gently setting the first gauntlet nearby and lightly touching the second one. "I got a knife you can tuck into your belt while you don't have these to hit with, if you want..." 

 

He's... just sort of interested in his own hand right now. For one thing, his nails are pointed and anchored deeply, and... they look more like claws. Actual claws. And, ow, that might explain why his hands have been hurting... it's not just the gauntlets pinching, there are blisters here too. Not anywhere near as bad as those on his feet, fortunately, but there are still a few painful ones. Maybe... maybe Sharpclaw can fix these? Slowly raising his hand, he somewhat cautiously displays the problem to the hybrid, wordlessly asking for something to make the pain stop. 

 

"Oh, ow. You know, people usually wear gloves under gauntlets like this... we'll have to see about getting you some gloves, or something to replace them." Sharpclaw comments, then very gently takes his hand, inspecting the popped blisters. "Ow. Okay... here's what we're going to do. I'm going to unfasten this gauntlet, because I know we need to get it off and check under it. I'm going to give you a knife, and then I'm going to go and-" 

 

Nope. He's not letting Sharpclaw go anywhere. Growling softly, the wraith grips onto the leather armor around Sharpclaw's lower arm, digging his gauntlet claws in and trying to make it very clear that Sharpclaw will  _not_ be leaving. Last time that happened, a bunch of goblins turned up. He is NOT going to let himself be left alone... though it does kind of hurt to admit to itself that he needs someone to protect him. 

 

"What are- oh, right. Okay, you can come... it's a little bit of a walk, though, and you're limping. Actually... I don't want you walking at all, you'll mess up those bandages and make those blisters even worse. You need to rest. Tell you what... it smells like blood over here anyway, how about we just move? We can get a bit closer to the water, head a bit further upstream... Gor can track just fine, he'll follow us and catch up. How's that sound?" Sharpclaw asks, seeming rather unconcerned by the gauntlet clamped onto his arm, then gently pries the metal claws loose and reaches for the straps. "Here... let me get this off so it won't make any blisters any worse." 

 

Okay, he's- he's not certain if he wants that off. The gauntlet protects his ring, but- 

But his ring is useless. And... if Sharpclaw doesn't recognize a Ringwraith, there's no way it'll recognize his ring. Okay... fine. Slowly relaxing his hand, he allows the gauntlet to be removed, then just looks down at his hands for a minute or two. This... this is strange. This is really strange. Among other things, his hands are now exposed to the air, and... it's weird. Shivering, he tucks his hands into his robe for a minute, then tilts his head slightly and looks down at his ring. 

That tiny little piece of metal wrapped around his finger bought him centuries upon centuries of life. Or, well... maybe "life" isn't the right word. More like existence. Servitude. Yes... that's a better word. Centuries upon centuries of servitude... of  _killing..._ what had possessed him to take the ring? Had he known what would happen to him, what it would do to his body, his soul?

He can't remember. Maybe.. maybe he knew. Maybe he was a fool who chose power and perceived immortality over retaining control of himself. 

Hopefully not. 

Or maybe... maybe he was just fooled by Sauron's clever tongue. He doesn't remember who he used to be, but he remembers his first impression of the being who would later become his Lord... and it was an impression of great power. And he remembers... remembers being drawn to that power, drawn like a moth to a flame. 

A flame that would later consume him.

And the thought of flame stirs up new memories, memories of cities aflame and people screaming, of his gauntlets dripping blood as he watches hordes of Orcs swarm over an unfortunate city- 

What has he _done?_

What- what could have possessed him to- 

He knows exactly what possessed him. The One Ring's corrupting influence has always been well-known among Sauron's forces, and... and he has one of its conduits on his finger. 

Well. Evidently he used to be an idiot. And now he's a mass murderer. 

He'd better hope Sharpclaw doesn't figure out what he is. Judging by its attitude towards the goblins, the hybrid doesn't like cruelty in the slightest, and... he's pretty sure that being responsible for thousands of deaths is on the list of things that Sharpclaw objects to. The hybrid would probably break his neck if he knew. So... so he'll just have to be certain that Sharpclaw doesn't figure it out. He can... possibly do that. He'll have to hide from anyone else they come across in order to do that... Sharpclaw may not recognize him, but Ringwraths are well-known, he's pretty certain that anyone else will give him away. 

And... he sincerely doubts that Sharpclaw will keep touching him like this if it finds out what he is. He's... starting to like the touching. Maybe. 

Who is he kidding? It's weird, it's very weird, but he likes it. And no one is around to see... so it might be okay to allow this. There's no one around to take advantage of his weakness... no one but Sharpclaw, and Sharpclaw apparently has no desire to take advantage of anything. 

Except the fact that him relaxing loosens his armor- 

Sharpclaw's free hand slides deeper under his chest armor and the wraith  _squeaks_ at the feeling, then tenses in surprise at the  _noise_ he's just made. And also the sensation of the hybrid's fingertips sliding over something quite sensitive-  _what-_

Baring his fangs in unease, the wraith tenses up and hisses at Sharpclaw, then relaxes just slightly when the warmth starts to sink into his cold skin. Oh, okay, he'll... mmm. He'll take it. It's weird, but... he really does like... he likes this. Sharpclaw's hands are nice and warm, and he's so  _cold,_ he'll take just about anything that'll warm him up without hurting him... even if it is sending unnerving little tingles of  _pleasure_ down his frame. He doesn't  _understand_ this, it's been a very long time since he's had a  _body_ that needs to be understood- 

 

"Shh shh shh..." Sharpclaw whispers, then moves its hand a bit lower, resting its palm gently on his stomach. "There we go. Just relax... you're gonna be fine. I promise. I'm sorry, did I... hit something sensitive? Sorry. Now... are you hurting anywhere else? I'll help you if I can, but I need to know what's going on... okay? I can see your hands, but did those goblins hurt you anywhere?" it asks softly, its voice soft and soothing as it looks him over.

 

He's... okay. His back hurts from being sat on, though, and... and his arm is bruised. Possibly. Wincing slightly, he slowly pulls his sleeve up, then blinks in surprise at the sight of his own skin- he's still not used to it. And there's a darker patch starting to show up... presumably a large bruise. Ow. And the back of his throat aches from having claws dug into it- and his mouth tastes  _foul._ Bleh. Hissing softly, he rings one hand up and paws at his mouth, trying to explain how much he  _hates_ the taste of goblin skin and blood on his tongue. 

 

"Heh, you bite one of 'em? Good. Here... get the taste out of your mouth. Probably best not to swallow if there's blood on your teeth." Sharpclaw offers, pressing a container of water gently into his hands, then begins spreading what little is left of the blister treatment onto a few strips of soft cloth. "I'm just going to get this ready... we should do something about that mess on your hands before it gets infected. Also, this should dull the pain a bit... you'll probably start feeling a bit better once this soaks in. And, uh... how did this happen? Did the padding underneath all of this just rot right out?" it asks, looking a bit confused as it plucks a bit of fabric off his lower arm- something that looks like it used to be the hem of a glove. "How... how does this even happen? The only time I've heard of anything like this happening is-" 

The hybrid pauses for a moment, evidently thinking it over, then looks down at him with a rather impressed expression. "Did you come through Mordor? Because that place is kinda still nasty- even  _Gor_ didn't wanna go in. Though I think he mighta been afraid of the very large bat-thing that kept screaming at him. You know anything that looks like a gigantic bat with eagle's feet and a snake for a head?" 

 

So a fell beast survived? It must have been one of the young ones still being trained... they hadn't gone near the mountain. That... could be helpful. Maybe. 

Still thinking it over, the wraith takes a gulp of water, then leans to the side (away from Sharpclaw and the fire) to spit it out. Doesn't quite get the taste out of his mouth, but it helps. 

Wait a minute... Sharpclaw is slowly putting the pieces together... this could be bad. But... he'll answer. Yes, he came through Mordor... technically came  _from_ it, but he's not about to say that. Curling into himself slightly, the former Ringwraith nods, then tenses slightly when Sharpclaw starts looking thoughtful. Uh oh.  _Please don't figure out what I a- what I was. I'm... not going to be able to survive on my own, not around here. And, if I encountered the elves who did THIS to me..._

Curling into himself even more in an attempt at self-comfort, the wraith shudders at the thought, his heartrate starting to increase slightly. He doesn't know what they'd do to him, but- he's pretty sure it would be very bad. And- what is he going to do if they show up? Can he, maybe... can he hide behind Sharpclaw's cloak? It's not a terribly dignified solution, but... he's long lost his dignity. His priority right now is surviving... he can work on dignity when he's feeling better. 

What if they attack Sharpclaw, though? Granted, the half-goblin doesn't seem terribly dangerous past the first impression (it's very friendly), but... elves are not known for their acceptance of other species. 

 

"Alright, give me your hand..." Sharpclaw whispers, then very gently takes his wrist, starting to carefully wrap the ointment-coated cloth around his hands in order to cover the popped blisters. "Ouch... these are nasty. We're definitely going to have to get some gloves for you... or we might be able to make do with some bandages. Either way, if you put those gauntlets back on without anything under them you're going to end up with bigger problems. And... do you have any blisters anywhere else? Anything that might end up causing blisters? Ah... hopefully you don't have any hip armor or anything like that... could get awkward." 

 

No. He doesn't have any armor like that, and he wouldn't let Sharpclaw at it if he did. No thank you. He'd prefer to remain un-molested. Even if Sharpclaw does seem unlikely to hurt him, goblins and half-goblins tend to be highly opportunistic... and he  _really_ doesn't want to give the hybrid any ideas about what to take as payment for helping him. Because... there's absolutely no way this is much attention, this much  _care,_ is without some sort of cost... and a cold pit of dread oozes into being in his stomach at the thought of what that cost might be. He knows what a typical half-goblin would want from him, but Sharpclaw is far from typical. Maybe... maybe the hybrid wants a willing partner. It's definitely... definitely touching him enough. Well, it's not going to get that from him. It- no. He can't give that. There is absolutely no way he's going to be able to even fake any sort of consent... no matter what Sharpclaw wants from him. 

And suddenly the touches to his hand, his arm, are making him very nervous because  _what if this is just the start, what if he intends to_ - 

 

Feeling him stiffen all over, Sharpclaw croons softly down at him, humming very softly in an effort to be soothing. "Shh, shh... you're okay. I'm sorry... did I hurt you?" it asks, then inhales sharply when it notices that he's brought his legs up and pressed them together in order to shield himself. "What... no, I'm not- where did you get  _that_ idea? I'm not going to- no-  _Hell_ no. I am NOT a rapist, okay? I-I'm not. Why do you think-" 

Sharpclaw pauses for a moment, then sighs, voice soft and soothing as it tries to calm him. "You've just been... thinking about this for awhile, haven't you? Listen... I'm not going to try to take anything from you, especially anything like  _that_. I'm... I'm a decent person, okay? And... I'm  _definitely_ not a rapist. I'm not going to... make you do anything. Anything that happens below your waist and above midthigh should be completely your choice... it's not for anyone else to take. I don't... I don't take that from anyone. Ever."

 

Narrowing his eyes slightly, he glances up at the hybrid, then relaxes just the tiniest fraction. Hmm. Maybe... maybe it's alright. Sharpclaw does sound very... very sincere. And he sounds borderline horrified by the idea... good.

Except... maybe Sharpclaw intends to... try to coax him into some sort of consent? Well, he's not about to give it. He'll just curl up and...

And be very, very cold. This... can't be healthy. 

Something is wrong. 


	6. Chapter 6

"Hey... you've been shaking for way too long. Are you alright?" Sharpclaw asks softly, then frowns, eyes narrowing slightly. "Okay... you are officially as cold as a week-old corpse. I have held  _snakes_ that were warmer than you. Something is... probably wrong with you, to be perfectly honest. Are you sick?" it asks softly, reaching for his face. He tries to lean back and avoid it, of course, but he can't quite dodge- and why the heck is Sharpclaw pressing the back of its hand to his forehead? What, exactly, is that supposed to do? "How can you be this  _cold?_ You aren't all wet, but you feel like someone just hauled you out of a lake in winter. This... really can't be healthy. Are you supposed to be this cold?" 

 

No. He's... pretty sure he shouldn't be this cold. It doesn't feel good. Giving a soft little noise of discomfort, he shakes his head slightly, then grumbles unhappily and tries to lean away from Sharpclaw's hand. There is someone touching his face and he does not like it. He also doesn't like being cold, but... he's not sure if there's anything he can do about being cold.

What if he's gotten this cold because... because he's dying again? He's supposed to be  _dead,_ after all... maybe whatever revived him is only temporary. No, he... he doesn't want to go through that transformation again, it- it _hurt._ But... but it didn't quite feel like  _this..._

What if he's dying for good this time?

His shivering increasing slightly at the thought, the wraith doesn't notice for a moment or two that Sharpclaw is fiddling with the latches of his chest armor. When he does, he whines in protest and tries to dig a set of gauntlet claws into Sharpclaw's leg. It doesn't work, though, he's not wearing his gauntlets at the moment. His fingernails are slightly claw-like, but they are not weapons. Hissing slightly, he squirms for a moment, then shivers and whines when Sharpclaw brushes one hand across his side. That... okay, that's... 

Sharpclaw is so  _warm._ He... he wants that.

 

"Easy, easy... I'm not going to hurt you, Spook. You need to get warmed up, though, and this armor is in the way and probably making you colder. I"m not going to do anything bad to you, I  _promise,_ but I need to get this off. I'll leave the cloak on, and I am not touching anywhere else... promise." Sharpclaw soothes, undoing one of the latches and moving to another. "It's okay... I'm not going to do anything. I know you're probably feeling vulnerable, and I'm sorry if I'm scaring you, but... I'm afraid this isn't really optional." the hybrid sighs, then tightens an arm around his midsection as he tries to squirm away. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but you need to get warmed up... I'm sorry." 

 

No, no, no-  _stop._ Hissing, he struggles frantically for a moment, then shivers and goes completely still at a  _very_ strange feeling- the sensation of his chest armor being peeled loose. It's a bit more stubborn than it probably should be, but having it removed doesn't hurt, and- oh, okay, he-  _  
_

Shuddering all over, the wraith  _whines_ at the sensation of air against skin that hasn't been  _skin_ in centuries, and he stops struggling- though mostly because he's too overwhelmed by the sensations to do much of anything else. 

 

"Okay, there we go..." Sharpclaw whispers, then gently tugs the armor away and sets it aside before just staring down at him for a moment. "Okay... yeah, your shirt is kinda... rotted. How did you even... never mind." it sighs, then plucks a few shreds of cloth away, which... pretty much leaves his chest completely bare. "Now... please don't bite me." it requests, then- 

 

He doesn't have much time to be overwhelmed by the feeling, because after removing the bits of cloth, Sharpclaw pulls him even closer and cradles him close, under the cloak. He can't help but dig his nails into the fabric of the hybrid's shirt, an attempt at finding something to brace himself... and then the sensation sinks in. _Oh_. Sharpclaw is  _warm._ It- it's _very_ warm. Okay, he has- he really has- absolutely no objections. None. Not any more. This... yes. Yes, _please_.

 

"You're sorta bony... think you need a lot more to eat. Here... I'm just gonna hold you, and I'll get a bit closer to the fire... and let's get you a bit more soup. Just relax..." Sharpclaw coaxes, tucking him a bit closer and holding him close in one arm as he reaches for the cauldron again. "Just try not to spill this on me... or yourself, it's still sorta hot. I don't think it'll burn you, but I doubt that'd be fun." it cautions, pressing a bowl gently into his hands, then settles comfortably into place and pulls the cloak tighter around both of them. "There. Better?" 

 

Yes. Absolutely. He's still not too thrilled about the lack of armor, but... oh, he is _not_ going to complain about something that feels this _good_. He's so cold, and Sharpclaw is incredibly warm... he wants to keep this. The wraith's hands curl around the hybrid's shirt, then he slowly nuzzles into the much larger being, melting against his new heat source. 

After a minute or two, much to his surprise, his chest starts... thrumming? What is- what is _happening?_ This isn't normal... is it?  _  
_

 

"Hey, are you..." Sharpclaw pauses, tilting its head, then lightly places a hand on his chest. "Huh. You're purring. I guess this feels pretty good?" it asks softly, then- well, he's not sure what it does next, he stops looking. "Uh... okay then. Guess you can just... nuzzle into my chest? I'm not complaining, just... li'l bit surprised."

 

He's just going to... hide. Just until he figures this out. So... he's... purring? And this means... what, exactly? That he's... enjoying himself? That.. that does seem to be what Sharpclaw is interpreting this as, so... yes. Apparently this "purring" thing is a gesture of comfort. Well... he is very comfortable. 

Okay... this isn't so bad. After all, it's probably the best-case scenario for having one's armor forcefully pried off. And, mmh... he's so  _warm..._ _  
_

This feels way too good. Literally. He's... he's getting tired. 

Is... is falling asleep supposed to feel like... actually falling? Because... this doesn't seem right. 

Despite his extreme nervousness, though, he can't keep himself awake. He can't. He's... he's so tired, and Sharpclaw is so warm. He tries to stay awake, he really tries, he even digs his nails into Sharpclaw's front in an effort to fight the sensation that he's  _falling,_ but... 

 

 

"Woah woah woah, hey- easy!"

 

OH HELL WHAT JUST- 

Oh. Okay. He's awake. It's alright.

Except for the goblin creeping up behind Sharpclaw _TURN AROUND_

He tries to squall some kind of warning, _anything_ , but his voice doesn't work and he's powerless to do anything but watch as an axe swings downwards into the hybrid's skull- 

Two of the other goblins pounce on him the second it's safe for them, and this time, there's no Sharpclaw to stop them- and no Gor, either, one of them is wearing a freshly-skinned Warg cloak, in fact that's the goblin yanking his legs apart and ripping his pants off- 

And he still can't even _scream_.

 

 

And then he's suddenly soaking wet. Sputtering in distress and trying to figure out what just  _happened,_ the wraith gives a shrieking wail of distress, then keens in raw terror at a tight grip around his midsection. Panting helplessly, he struggles and kicks for a minute more, then  _whimpers_ as he's forced still. Panting in fear, the wraith desperately tries to get his legs pressed together, then whimpers softly in confusion when he realizes something. He's... he's not... nobody is _hurting_ him. What... why is he... why is everything... 

What just _happened?_

 

"Easy, easy, easy, shh... it's okay, I promise, it's okay. You were having a nightmare. I'm so sorry it took me that long to snap you out of it... you wouldn't wake up. Shh, it's alright... whatever was going on in that nightmare, it's gone now. Were you, uh... was that about those goblins? Because... they really aren't coming back. Gor got back a few minutes ago, drenched in blood and with a spear stuck through his scruff. He didn't even notice it... got it out before he realized it was there and got sad. He's off swimming in the river to get clean. I don't know how far he chased them, but if any of them are still more than halfway alive, they are NOT coming back. It's okay, I promise... you're safe." Sharpclaw croons, then picks up a cloth, gently beginning to scrub it across his chest. "Sorry about that... you weren't waking up no matter what I tried, so I either had to slap you or dump water on you. I figured this option would probably upset you less, and... I'm pretty sure I'd hurt you kinda badly if I tried the first one. Here... I'll just get you dried off." 

 

What- he was- 

He was just  _dreaming?_

Are dreams supposed to  _hurt?_

He's pretty sure dreams aren't supposed to hurt. But... he's definitely not injured. He's not bleeding, he can move his legs without keening in pain, and... hmm, okay, his hands and feet are still rather sore, but that's... normal now. The only real problem here is the fact that he's all wet. Also the fact that he's still breathing very, very fast and his heart won't stop racing. But mostly he's wet. 

Okay now there is a blanket being scrubbed over his chest and he's really not certain how he feels about it does this feel  _good?_

Yes, definitely feels good, but- why is- 

_Okay_ those are sensitive spots. Whining in protest, the wraith squirms away from the blanket rubbing over his chest, then relaxes slightly when Sharpclaw shifts to just drying his stomach and sides. There... that's a bit better. Less sensitive. Also making his skin tingle. 

And he's really not in the mood to be handled right now, not while he can still feel rough fingernails dragging down his inner thighs, powerful hands pinning him down, forcing his legs apart- 

The wraith shudders and leaps free of Sharpclaw's grip, then hisses slightly and reconsiders when he registers just how  _cold_ it is all of a sudden. Okay, no. He doesn't like this at all. 

 

"Yeah, it's night now. Or... might actually be more like really early morning, actually. I was asleep for awhile before you started hissing." Sharpclaw explains, then smiles softly up at him, seemingly trying to look open. "Come on, it's alright. You're still pretty cold... want to come warm up? I'm, uh... guessing you were probably warmer before I dumped that water on you, so... want to fix that?" 

 

Maybe.

Yes.

Quite aware of just how painful it is to walk on blisters and whatever's wrong with his leg, the wraith limps back over to Sharpclaw, staring him in the face for a moment before curling into the larger being's lap. He'd really rather be independent and self-sufficient, but that's not going to happen right now. He hurts, he's cold, and he's  _scared_... he wants warmth and comfort. Is that so bad? 

No. That's not so bad. No one is around to take advantage of his vulnerability, and he couldn't do anything about it either way. 

Curling into a tight little ball, the wraith presses his legs together as much as possible, then hisses slightly and whines in pain. Ow. Okay, that's his leg complaining about this. And- why is Sharpclaw reaching for his leg?! Hissing, the wraith flinches away, then whimpers softly in pain as his leg protests. No, he doesn't want- Sharpclaw is trying to-  _no,_ he doesn't want to- _no._ Please. 

 

"Easy, easy... it's okay, I'm just trying to get a look at your leg. Why are you shaking aga- oh." Sharpclaw stops right in the middle of the motion, then instead just very gently wraps its arms around him, repeating the motion that got him purring earlier. "That was a pretty... specific nightmare, huh? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you... I was just trying to see what's up with your leg, I promise. Because, if it's just bruised or strained, I can help with that. I don't have to touch, don't worry, just... give me a minute." it whispers, then reaches over and pulls a stone away from the edge of the fire, tossing it back and forth between both hands for a moment or two and then wrapping it in the corner of a blanket. "Here, the heat from this should help ease your pain up a bit. I'll get a couple more set up, you just settle those against whatever's sore.... okay?" 

 

How is a hot rock supposed to help? Granted, it's not red-hot, especially not through the blanket, but... what is this supposed to...

Oh well. Sharpclaw probably knows more about treating injuries than he does, and... more heat does sound nice. Still a bit skeptical, the wraith tucks the stone against his leg, then accepts a couple more and tries to relax. He wants to rest. He does NOT want to go back to sleep, though- never. He can't sleep. If he falls asleep, his mind is going to assault him with nightmares again, and- and he can't fight that. Sharpclaw can crush any goblins that get near him, but nobody can fight a nightmare- nobody can help him when his mind is attacking him. 

He'll just have to stay awake. He hasn't slept in as long as he's been a Ringwraith, not really... not true sleep. Ringwraiths nap occasionally, shut their eyes and rest, but they don't need to sleep. So... he can do this, sure. Living beings get all their energy from food and sleep, so he'll just need to eat more, and... staying awake for centuries on end is probably a very good way to prepare oneself mentally for not sleeping. 

 

"Okay... I'm sorry, but I need to get some sleep, and if I try to sleep all night sitting up I'm probably going to wake up really stiff. Now, I'm sorry if I jostle you, but I gotta get up." Sharpclaw warns softly, then carefully cradles him in both arms, standing up and (fortunately) managing not to shake him around too much. Walking over to the cart with absolutely no problems or any hint that it might be just the slightest bit hindered by the wraith in its arms, the hybrid grabs the shaft of the cart and drags it (still loaded) closer to the fire, then kicks a few spare logs into the flames and climbs into the cart. The bottom of the cart is lined with various rather tattered furs, and judging by the crunching there might be something like hay or straw underneath. 

 

Still rather startled by what he's just seen (is he really that light, or is Sharpclaw just very strong? Maybe both?), he absentmindedly pats at the furs for a moment to see if they're at least reasonably clean (he's never been terribly fond of dirt, and yes, they are), then fluffs himself up as much as possible and hisses warningly when Sharpclaw tries to curl around him. Woah woah woah, wait just a second- what does it think it's doing? Does it intend to- 

 

"Easy, easy... you gotta stay warm. I'm not going to try anything, I promise, I'm just gonna be a heat source. Besides... this is my spot too." Sharpclaw points out, then reaches over and undoes a latch on the side of the cart, then another. This causes about half of the cart side to fold down out of the way, letting a bit more of the fire's heat in, and Sharpclaw has evidently grabbed another couple of hot rocks. Laying down right behind him, the hybrid tugs its cloak edge loose so that there's some space for him to crawl under, then pulls a tarp of some sort most of the way over them both. "There, see? Nice and warm. Now, I'm just gonna go to sleep... there's a couple of canteens of water right next to those potatoes if you need a drink. The canteen with the latch on top is some kind of liquor, not sure what kind- it's strong, though. Gonna trade it for something. I do not suggest drinking it unless you like having your throat burning." 

 

He does not. He also does not like this situat- oh. Hello. Big warm thing against his back, tarp and blanket and bear hide over the top of him, no serious pain, fire (and half-goblin) to keep the animals away... this might not be so bad. Sharpclaw isn't grabbing him, isn't tugging him around or making him do anything, isn't even really touching him aside from where they're pressed together... he can work with this.

Once he's certain that Sharpclaw is asleep, the wraith slowly lays down, curling himself into a tiny ball and pressing himself up against the larger being's frame. And, hey... the heat of the rocks on his leg is actually working. He's not... he doesn't hurt so badly. And he's  _warm._ He's really warm. 

He's also very aware of how _small_ he is, though. Usually he's at least one of the largest beings in any given area, excluding trolls (which aren't really beings anyway)... so being small now is odd. Especially without his armor... he's small, slender, possibly underweight (ribs probably aren't supposed to stick out quite this much), and... apparently very light. Sharpclaw picked him up very easily. That could be problematic in future... hopefully he'll be able to bulk up a bit once he starts healing. And hopefully keeping himself awake won't hinder that. 

 

Turns out staying awake all night is hard. 

After some poking around in a few leather pouches, he locates a small knife and just starts carving things into the side of the wagon, random patterns and lines and spirals. They don't stay random for too long, though... they start to take on a form. The Lidless Eye, carved over and over, showing up in more and more places as he works and _why_ is he carving this? Why does he feel so compelled to- to keep- 

Suddenly angry, he slams the knife into the center of one carved eye, drawing himself up and glaring down at it.  _Damn your hold on me! I don't WANT your influence. You made me into this, you stole my will, you turned me against everything around me and made me a tool of destruction- you turned me into a monster. I didn't WANT this. I wanted the power you offered me, yes, and- and immortality seemed nice at the time- but I didn't want-_

_I never wanted this._

_I was a fool to trust you._

Hissing softly to himself, he drags the knife across the carved eye, then shifts his grip on the knife and starts to slice at the wood. Thin shavings of wood fall away with every scrape, and soon enough the eye is gone.

And then he starts on the rest.

 

After awhile, he's gotten all of the eyes out, and he slowly puts the knife back. Carving is vaguely interesting and a decent way to stay awake, but... he'd really rather not come up with more eyes. Bad thoughts. Very bad thoughts. 

He's not going to sleep tonight. 

Or hopefully ever. 

 

 

 

Somehow he manages to keep himself awake all night. When the sun rises, it gets a bit easier to stay awake, especially since all he has to do is tilt his head back slightly to be essentially stabbed in the eyes by the sun- even through the trees. It hurts, and it's really not fun, but... it does work. 

He's now sitting in the cart, curled up against a couple of sacks of potatoes and being kept awake by the movement. Gor is hitched to the front of the cart, pulling it without any difficulty despite the cart being loaded with (among other things) a very large half-goblin, and they're going... somewhere. He's not sure where. Away from Mordor, at least... and away from the goblins. Good. 

Hmm. He's actually rather comfortable, curled up here... the potatoes are lumpy, but they aren't such a bad thing to lean on, not with a tarp folded up and stuffed against them. He's not in too much pain, either... he's not comfortable, but his leg is now wrapped firmly in something that Sharpclaw dug out of another part of his cart- cloth bags full of something. Some sort of tiny bean that holds heat well, apparently, and doesn't catch fire easily. Whatever they are, it's comfortable, and the heat is definitely helping. 

The bandages on his hands have been changed, but Sharpclaw left the ones on his feet alone... something about not peeling the 'roofs' off of the blisters. That's good, he... really doesn't like the idea of messing with those. Seems like it would hurt quite a lot. His feet don't hurt too badly right now, though... whatever Sharpclaw put on the blisters is definitely working. His arm is feeling a bit better, too... not much pain there. 

He's alright.

He's just very tired.

He'd like to sleep, he really would, he's just... he's scared. He can't do anything about the nightmares,  not while he's sleeping, so his best option is to just... avoid them. Entirely. It's been working so far, at least... no nightmares for half the night and approximately half a day. So... no nightmares for the equivalent of half a day. Maybe. Yes, probably. He's not sure. 

Maybe he does need to do something about this. Hmm. 

Mortals get their energy from either sleeping or eating. Sleeping is not an option, so that leaves... hmm. What is there in this cart that he could possibly eat? There are potatoes, yes, but raw potatoes... probably aren't good to eat. Are they? Probably no. So... what else is there? Some sort of tuber that he's forgotten the name of, some other sort of tuber with fluffy foliage on it, a couple of onions, some dried meat of unknown origin and species, a round bunch of leaves (cabbage?), something that looks like a cross between a rock and a root, and... something large, round, and orange. Is this a food? It looks like a fruit, at least. Sounds like knocking on a hollow wooden crate. And, hmm- perfect, a clay jar full of dried sausages. These are ready to eat without cooking, right? They definitely smell... rather good. 

Uh oh- Sharpclaw's just noticed him. Tensing nervously, the wraith eyes the hybrid for a moment, one hand still in the jar. Is he... in trouble? Sharpclaw seems fairly willing to share his food, but... some people are a bit touchy about sharing. Especially sharing with people who haven't been given permission. 

 

"Oh, hey- you hungry?" Sharpclaw asks, turning around to face him and leaving Gor to trot along a half-overgrown path without any guidance. "I'm willing to share, don't worry. You can have some of those if you want 'em, though I'll warn you, they're a bit tough to chew on that way. If you're willing to wait a bit, I can make it a bit easier to eat them- hand me a couple?" it requests, then accepts the cautiously proffered sausages, pulling a slate out of a small trunk that seems to be full of cooking supplies. Utilizing the slate as a cutting board, he slices the sausage into long strips, then sets the slate aside and instead retrieves a small cauldron of the stew from before. "Just gotta let this soak a bit..." it explains, stuffing the majority of the sausage down into the cauldron, then offers him a strip. "Chew on that while the rest is soaking." 

 

The wraith accepts the offered food (though not without a suspicious stare), then somewhat dubiously inspects it for a moment. Now that he's thinking about it, he can remember seeing some  _very_ unsavory ingredients being made into sausages... does he really want to eat this? 

 

"You look a bit skeptical. Oh- no worries, there's nothing yucky in it. I know the guy who makes these. He uses good meat and makes it into sausages so it'll last longer, he's not just trying to disguise anything nasty. Well, okay, there's probably a couple of hearts and livers in there, but those are good for you." Sharpclaw remarks, then turns slightly and tugs on the reins leading to Gor's halter. "No, boy, leave the... whatever that is... alone. That is way too rotten for eating- aw, no, do NOT roll in that! Gor, ew, no-" it complains, yanking on the reins until it manages to get the Warg away from... some sort of unfortunate creature that is long dead and far too messed up to identify. It looks like it's been mauled by a bear and by approximately two weeks' worth of decay. 

 

Hmm. He's still a little bit skeptical, but... alright. It does smell good, and at the very least it's been smoked... it's probably safe to eat. After another skeptical stare at Sharpclaw, and then at the meat, the wraith cautiously takes a small bite- and then  _growls_ and takes a much larger bite. Oh,  _yes._ Okay, sudden and extreme desire to rip this piece of meat to  _shreds_ and then start on the rest. He's  _hungry_ and this tastes like meat and just a bit of blood and- it tastes _very_ good.

Somewhat to his own surprise, he has absolutely no trouble with chewing the sausage and very quickly swallowing it. And... he seems to have also startled Sharpclaw. Oops. He did... sorta eat that very fast. Well, that wasn't intentional. 

 

"Bit of a craving, then? You might need to eat more red meat... usually, if you're suddenly craving one food in particular, it's because you need to eat more of it. Well, that's easy enough to fix- I have plenty of meat, and I have a Warg. Uh- the Warg isn't for eating, he's just good at bringing me edible things. He's learned to catch deer... not sure how he manages it." Sharpclaw shrugs, then nudges the stew cauldron over to him, leaving it where he can easily reach it. "There you go... just chew on that for awhile." 

 

Hmm. After yet another skeptical stare -he really isn't sure about this- the wraith dips a piece of the sausage out of the cauldron and nips at it, then settles back against the potato sacks behind him to enjoy his meal. It... does actually taste pretty good, and he's too hungry to care about the texture of the meat. It's hard to chew on, but he really doesn't care. 

Except that, after awhile, his throat starts to hurt. Okay, ow. He'd... like this to not be happening. 

Now... how can he accomplish that? He's probably going to need some water, but he's not really sure how to express that to Sharpclaw. He's pretty sure he won't be able to speak even if he tries, and he doesn't particularly want to try... he doesn't feel like talking. Doesn't feel like doing much. Instead, maybe he'll just... just reach and... lightly touch the hybrid's arm. Very softly. Aaand now Sharpclaw is looking at him and he suddenly doesn't want to do this any more- Sharpclaw is  _looking_ at him, he doesn't like that. At all. He does  _not_ want anyone looking at his face- it feels  _wrong_. Hissing softly, the wraith fluffs himself up and retreats, hiding behind his arms.  _No._

 

"Hey, are you... you okay? Is something wrong?" Sharpclaw asks, then reaches out and gently touches his forearm, trying to coax his arm out of the way. "Did I scare you? It's alright, I promise... I won't hurt you." 

 

Yes, he  _knows_ that already. Sharpclaw has made that very clear, and he's reasonably certain that the hybrid is actually trying to help. He just doesn't like having Sharpclaw looking at him- he's not sure why, or why it only just now bothers him. He'll just... just retreat and puff himself up and  _glare_ at the hybrid until Sharpclaw backs off. 

Except he's not backing off. 

_Stop looking at me!_

_I mean it, stop LOOKING at me-_

This isn't working. This really isn't working. Normally he can frighten any mortal with just a glare, but he's using the full extent of his power here, and... and it's not working. 

Evidently he doesn't  _have_ any of his power. He'd been hoping that his power might return once he started recovering, but... either he hasn't regained his strength, or his power has gone the way of his immortality. Well... that's not helpful at all. 

Great. He's even more helpless than he thought. Like he needed his fear increased even more. Is his heart supposed to be beating this fast-  _what the Hell-_ _  
_

Something sharp bounces off the side of the wraith's head, and he shrieks in shock and fear, leaping several feet to the side and landing- right up against Sharpclaw again. Forget his worry about that, though- what just attacked him? Something just flew out of nowhere and sliced into his arm, and it's gone now- what was that? What just- 

 

"Easy... it's alright, that wasn't anything seriously dangerous. Here- tuck under 'ere and look. It's a falcon, see?" Sharpclaw explains, lifting one arm with part of the cloak draped over it and gently shielding him. "Look up there... that dead branch. See the nest? Falcons are real good parents... it probably thinks we're gonna eat its babies. G'yup, Gor, let's leave them alone before they either freak out or end up cuttin' something important out of our hides. They're sharp little things. Lots of claws- wup, here it comes again." it warns, gently pulling him just a bit closer and shielding him from the falcon. "Shoo, bird." 

 

Oh. That was all? Just... just a falcon? Hmm. Evidently he's overreacted a bit. Trying to look nonchalant, the wraith settles himself up against Sharpclaw's larger frame, gladly accepting the shelter from the angry bird currently trying to slice his face open. 

Wait, is it gone now? 

_GAH,_ no, it's not gone and it's just- aaand now it's gotten at his face. Ow. Hissing, the wraith curls further into himself and tugs the bear cloak down over himself, doing his best to hide from the bird before it hits something really important. Yes, he could probably whack it down out of the sky, but- he's not sure he wants to hit something that sharp with his bare hands. Also, he doesn't need to kill it... it's trying to protect its nest. It's a tiny little thing, but it's attacking him to protect its babies. He won't kill it for that... 

 

Once away from the falcon's nest, Sharpclaw uncovers the wraith and looks him over, inspecting him for injuries. "You alright? Oh, nope, it got you. Here... let me see, alright? I just want a look at your arm." it explains softly, very gently taking his arm in one hand and inspecting the cuts for a moment. "Alright, these aren't bad- they're just scratches. Probably don't feel too great, but they aren't deep, and they don't look too dirty. I'll clean 'em off a bit when we get to a good stopping point, but I see bear marks on that tree, and they're high up. I think I'd rather avoid a bear that large... I still got scars from this one." it chuckles, patting the bear-hide cloak, then narrows its eyes when it spots... something. 

 

What is Sharpclaw looking at? The wraith shifts uneasily, baring his fangs slightly, then twitches slightly at a sudden impact of something on his hand. He's still feeling jumpy, and... what was that? Oh, blood. Huh. Where's it dripping from, though? Not his arm... oh, that's probably from whatever damage the falcon did to his face. Should... should it be bleeding this much, though? This is actually a lot of blood, enough that it's dripping... that's bad. W-why is- 

And now there's blood dripping down into his eye. That's... okay, that's- no. No thank you. Also ow, blood in one's eye is not pleasant, but- but that is really not a concern right now because _there is blood dripping down his face_. That's really somewhat worrying. And  _why_ is Sharpclaw reaching for his throat?!

Hissing, the wraith jerks away from Sharpclaw's hand, then gives an uneasy little noise when he realizes just how much blood is running down his face. That- that really can't be good- he doesn't quite remember what level of bleeding is considered to be serious, but he's fairly certain that this is pretty close. "Nnh-" 

 

"Hey, hey, easy... I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to get a look at your face, alright? You're bleeding quite a bit. Facial wounds bleed a whole lot, so we need to stop that before you bleed too much. I don't think you can bleed to death from a facial wound, but you're gonna get really bloody and you're gonna smell like food to a lot of different things out here. Also, Gor will probably start trying to lick you off after awhile, and that's not... not great. He's trying to help, but his mouth is not clean." Sharpclaw sighs, then makes another attempt to- oh, maybe it's actually trying to grip his chin as opposed to grabbing his throat. Okay, that's maybe not so bad, but- but Sharpclaw is trying to get a look at his face and that does  _not_ sound like- no, h-he doesn't want- 

But he doesn't like the blood, either. He really doesn't like the blood, especially at this point- he can only see out of one eye now, and that is really just- no thank you, no. 

...why does everything suddenly look a bit like a tunnel? This- this seems bad. Incredibly unnerved, the wraith edges backwards slightly, giving an upset little whimper as his field of vision shrinks down even further. This- this is bad- something is very, very wrong, and it- this feels- this is- 

 

"Are you- oh, you're about to pass out. Easy, easy- it's alright. Just- just lay down, alright? Maybe not on your back, though- blood. Just- just on your side, alright?" Sharpclaw coaxes, very gently tugging on his arm until he's- well, mostly draped over the hybrid's lap. "It's alright, I promise. I know this is really unpleasant, but nothing's wrong- promise. You're gonna be alright... just lay down and let me get you cleaned up, okay? Easy, easy, it's alright... think you can drink sideways? Might help if you can get something down you." 

 

No, he cannot drink  _sideways,_ who in the world can drink sideways- and there's blood in his mouth anyway. And ahaha no thank you he'd really rather not sprawl in Sharpclaw's lap like this- no thank you. 

Hissing unhappily, the wraith wriggles away and sits up- and immediately regrets it in his last three seconds of consciousness before his world goes entirely dark. 

 

 

When he wakes up, he's... actually very comfortable. Everything is soft, and, hmm... there's no more blood on him. That's good. The wraith blinks a couple of times, attempting to process what's happening, then gives a soft little noise when a cup is pressed to his lips. Hmm? Oh, that's a cup of water. That's good. He's thirsty. Now... what else is... what's going on? Where is he? Why- why is- 

_His hood is down._ Giving a muffled little noise of alarm, the wraith squirms slightly for a moment, then flips over and tugs his hood back into place. Okay, that's better, but- but Sharpclaw's  _seen,_ and- and that could potentially be very bad. What... what does he look like under the hood? Nervously licking his lips, the wraith slowly attempts to sit up, then reconsiders when his head starts to spin again. Okay, no. He'll just stay down here. Even if he is in Sharpclaw's lap. It's not so bad, it's comfortable... even if he's not certain about this. And... could someone please explain what just happened? 

 

"Easy... stay down, alright? You passed out, woke up a couple minutes ago, got a good look at the bloody cloth I was holding, and passed out again. You aren't all that great with your own blood, are you?" Sharpclaw asks, shifting its grip slightly to help keep him comfortable. "It's alright... a lot of people aren't so comfortable with seeing their own blood, especially when they aren't feeling great. Just stay down for a few minutes and you'll be fine... promise. Though... I do have a question. What're you being so shy about? I thought maybe you had some kind of scar that you didn't want me to see, and I was planning to just leave you alone and let you keep the hood, but I did have to get that blood off you. Aside from the new stuff -which I guess might end up scarring- I didn't see much of anything that you needed to hide. So... not sure what you were worried about, but it's alright if you want to keep that hood... whatever you're comfortable with. I just need to keep this in place, okay? That cut over your eye was bleeding pretty badly, and I don't think it's stopped yet. Don't worry, it's not bad... facial wounds just like to bleed a lot." 

 

Well... evidently he doesn't have anything too unpleasant under his hood. Either that or Sharpclaw is entirely immune to what others generally consider to be terrifying. It does have a horse-sized Warg hitched to its wagon. But... what is this about him passing out? He did  _not_ faint because of his own blood. He is not that squeamish. Is he? Oh, no, wait- apparently even the thought is a bit... eeh. So, yes, apparently he really is that squeamish. And... given that he hasn't actually  _had_ blood in centuries, that... okay, yes, that does make sense. Possibly. He's not sure, he doesn't feel so great at the moment. Doesn't really want to think. Just... just wants to relax and... and maybe sip at... where did that cup go? Giving a small noise, the wraith feels around for a moment, then clicks softly in satisfaction when Sharpclaw apparently understands and presses the cup into his hands. Alright, that's nice, and... and he's not about to complain about the firm touches pressing a soft cloth to the cut over his eye. Doesn't feel wonderful, but it is preventing the dripping-blood problem that... that caused him to... apparently faint. Wonderful, he's squeamish now. That could be very problematic. 

And... wait a minute. That church peak looks... looks familiar. 

Suddenly uneasy, the wraith slowly pushes himself up just a bit further, then licks his lips and  _whines_ at a sudden stab of guilt. Oh. Oh, he... he remembers this town. 

 

"Hey, what's wrong? This place is all in ruins, yes, but it looks like it's been that way for awhile... whatever did this is long gone. Aw, no, Gor- don't chew on the people bones. Gor, no-" Sharpclaw orders, then gently takes his hand, coaxing him to press on the cloth that's pressed to the gash in his forehead. "Here, I gotta keep Gor from chewing on the bones. You press on this, I'll be back in a minute. Don't take that away to check if the bleeding's stopped, it'll start right back up if it hasn't been long enough." it warns, carefully shifting him out of its lap and getting out of the cart. "Gor, no- bad Warg! Don't chew on that skull." 

 

No, whatever did this is  _not_ long gone. It's sitting in a cart feeling incredibly guilty. 

He  _knows_ this place. He led a band of Orcs through here when Mordor was first founded. He's the reason it's destroyed... and he's personally responsible for the skeleton that Sharpclaw is currently gathering up off of the overgrown path. 

_Ow._ Okay, there's that wrenching stab of- of- ow, okay, guilt  _hurts._

He's pretty sure that's guilt. Is- yes, okay, his pulse seems to be about even. Breathing, too. Not bleeding anymore, aside from- oh, no, wait, Sharpclaw said not to check that. But, aside from the cut, he's not dripping anything from anywhere. Heart working, breathing, not dripping anything... those are good signs. Beyond that, though, he... he doesn't really know what he's looking for. He really has no idea how to tell if something is healthy or not, beyond being able to tell if something is right about to die. He's not about to die, apparently, but... he's not really sure if he's okay. 

Ow. Okay, he should... he should stop looking out at the ruins of the town now. There isn't much left to see, just a few half-standing stone chimneys and the shambles of a couple of buildings that were made of brick... and a fire-scorched church full of skeletons. They'd... they'd tried to hide behind the stone walls of the church, and... apparently they'd also thought that he might not be able to go in. Common misconception, but no, churches do absolutely nothing to keep him out. As they'd learned. Not that it had done them any good, none of them had survived to warn anyone. 

 

When Sharpclaw gets back to the cart, there's a little ball of shame huddled into the corner. "Hey... you alright?" the hybrid asks softly, climbing into the cart and sitting down next to him. "You gonna pass out again? It's alright, I moved all the bones before Gor could get at 'em. Put 'em over in the church... seemed like the right spot. There's a whole lot more skeletons over there, though... looks like the place burned down around them. I'm glad this looks old- don't wanna be anywhere near whatever did this. Probably a bunch of Orcs, I guess, but still. There's little skeletons in there, kids... c'mon, Gor, let's get outta here." 

 

Ow. Yeah, definitely... definitely don't let Sharpclaw know what he is. 

He's sorry, though, he- he really is. Is that... does that, maybe, count for anything? 

No, of course that doesn't count for anything. He can't fix this by being  _sorry_. He's killed these people, and they're the least of it- he's killed far, far, far more people than  _this._ He's spread death and destruction and ruin in Sauron's name for- for as long as he can remember, really, he can't remember anything from before he met his Lord. He's- he doesn't- why is he  _alive?_ He doesn't- doesn't deserve to- 

He's a  _monster,_ what right does he have to  _live?_ He allowed himself to be manipulated, to be controlled, and now- now his brethren are dead, his Lord is dead, his cause is dead, and he feels so very, very  _guilty-_

And then Sharpclaw is touching him, just very lightly touching his shoulder, his arm, trying to see if he's okay, and he doesn't  _deserve_ sympathy, he doesn't deserve the sheer kindness being turned his way, he doesn't- 

Hissing sharply, he shoves one hand up against Sharpclaw's arm, then curls into a tighter ball and  _whimpers._ He- no, he- Sharpclaw is being so  _gentle_ with him and he doesn't  _deserve_ it, doesn't- 

_I don't deserve this **get away from me-**_

 

"Hey, hey- what's wrong? Are you- hey, no, shh..." Sharpclaw whispers, slowly moving a bit closer, then reaches out and ever-so-gently pulls him into its lap. "Shh-shh-shh... hey, don't do that to yourself, get- get your fingernails out of your arm." it orders, gently gripping both his hands, then looks back over his shoulder at the church. "Hey, did you... were you here? I mean, this was a long time ago, but- what the heck, I already know you aren't human, I guess you could be pretty darn old. Now stop- stop doing that." the hybrid half-growls, its voice suddenly very firm as it pries his hand away from where he's- oh, he's digging his nails into his arm.

 

He's not sure why he's doing it, but... it just feels like the right thing he should be doing. He  _hurts_ inside, and- he needs to do something to get rid of this feeling or he's just going to- he doesn't know. 

And yes, he was here, but he's not about to admit it. Hissing slightly in a general expression of displeasure at being manhandled (though it's very gentle manhandling), he curls into a tighter ball, then whimpers again and shudders all over, his breathing hitching slightly.  _Dammit_ he didn't ask to kill people, he- he never wanted- he just- he couldn't help- but he  _could_ , he probably could have stopped it if he tried, he just- he didn't try, he was- 

_I'm sorry-_

 

"You're really upset... what's wrong?" Sharpclaw whispers, then just cradles him a bit closer, tucking its cloak gently around him. "You knew someone here, huh? It's alright... it's okay to be upset. I'm not going to mock you or anything, I'll just... just be quiet now. Just stop digging your claws into your arm like that- whatever's wrong, whatever happened, I'm sure you did everything you could." 

 

Yeah, he definitely did whatever he could, but he was doing everything he could to  _slaughter_ the people here. Yes, the Orcs had been with him, but- but he'd been told that they needed to eliminate the town, told to go with the Orcs and be sure they didn't kill each other fighting over any loot they might find, and- and he'd  _killed,_ and  _damn it_ this isn't the worst thing he's ever done, it's far from the worst- he's killed thousands of people, he's killed noncombatants, he's killed  _children-_

_I'm a monster. I don't deserve to live._

_I should tell it what I am so it'll just- just kill me._

Nervously licking his lips, the wraith slowly lifts one hand, about to touch Sharpclaw's arm and get its attention- then shudders and curls into a ball, overcome with fear. His sick feeling of guilt and despair is warring with deeply wired survival instincts, and... the instincts are winning. He... he can't bring himself to do something that is most assuredly going to get him killed. 

Considering how cold he's gotten, though, he... might not have to worry about that for much longer. 

 

What was that sound? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that's a wonderful idea. Sit up at night remembering every horrible thing you've ever done instead of going to sleep and enduring nightmares. Perfect plan.  
> Except for the fact that living creatures are not physically or mentally equipped to stay awake for that long, especially not after severe mental and physical trauma.
> 
> So let's recap. Our Ringwraith's entire world crashed down around his ghostly ears a bit over two weeks ago. Almost two days ago, an excruciatingly painful spell accidentally turned him back into a living thing. Mere hours later, a band of miscellaneous nasties came very, very, very close to doing some incredibly nasty things to him. Aside from when he passed out from sheer pain, when he just outright fainted (twice), and probably about three hours of restless sleep that he was jolted from by a very intense nightmare, he's been conscious the entire time. He was still a Ringwraith (sorta) for about two weeks of that, yes, but he was NOT in good mental or physical shape for that time. He's in pain, he's terrified, he doesn't understand anything of what's happening to him, he's incredibly exhausted both physically and mentally, and he's currently suffering from some extreme guilt.   
> I'd say that sounds like the recipe for some hallucinations. Or possibly a full-on psychotic break.   
> Hopefully just the former.


	7. Chapter 7

This whole "no sleep" thing is not fun. 

Apparently eating does not prevent mortals from being tired. Or from experiencing other adverse effects. 

He's not feeling so great. 

 

By evening, his hands won't stop shaking, and he keeps hearing noises with no visible cause. 

 

He manages to stay awake all night, mostly because of the terror that fills him at the idea of sleeping- because if he goes to sleep, he's going to have nightmares again, and- and he can't fight a nightmare, and that means pain and fear and humiliation and  _hurt_. 

Also, an owl of some kind screams at him somewhere after midnight and scares him enough that he's wide awake until morning. Partially because he isn't aware that it's an owl. It sure doesn't sound like a bird. 

Wargs are bred for endurance, and Gor keeps going all night. The big Warg slows down after awhile, of course, but he doesn't stop. Apparently Sharpclaw trusts Gor to keep walking in the right direction. 

Sharpclaw falls asleep curled up in the wagon with his thumb in his mouth. It's somehow almost cute. He tries the thumb-sucking thing after a minute or two of staring, mostly because he's too tired to have much impulse control at all. His hand tastes a bit odd. The motion is maybe a little bit soothing, but it's just too  _weird_ to do much of anything for him. He keeps doing it for a few minutes, just to see if the weirdness goes away, but... no. Not really. 

 

By morning, he's... not feeling good at all. 

He hurts. 

And he feels... just... just  _bad._ They passed another ruined town. Sharpclaw wasn't awake to see it, but he was, and... and it hurts.  _  
_

When Sharpclaw wakes up, the wraith is curled into a shuddering ball of pain, cheeks dampened, shivering hard and leaning against the hybrid in an attempt to rid himself of a bone-deep chill. He doesn't respond to the hybrid's worried voice, he just- just whimpers and curls tighter into himself. He's caught between pushing the hybrid away, begging to be left alone, and... well, another part of him would very much like to be held, if he's being completely honest with himself. Sharpclaw is warm and gentle and... and  _comforting._ Maybe... maybe there's some way it can... maybe it can make this stop? Maybe Sharpclaw knows how to make him feel better. Yes, that- that seems like it might- yes. 

Tentatively edging a bit closer, the wraith reaches for Sharpclaw's arm with one shaky hand, then flinches and retreats when the big man reaches for him.

As he backs away, his unfocused eyes drift over to the path behind them, and he tenses in alarm at the sight of- 

No, not them, not them again  _please-_ he's awake, he's  _awake,_ why are they here they shouldn't be  _here-_

And then one of Sharpclaw's hands settles over his eyes and the wraith shrieks in alarm, struggling weakly for a moment or two before just going limp in the hybrid's powerful grip. What- no no no he's not the threat  _he's not the threat look over there-_

Wait, is- is Sharpclaw _helping_ them? Is he- is he trying to-  _no no no no please-_

 

"Hey, hey, easy- listen to me. There is nothing there. Whatever you were looking at, it's not real. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise, but- I gotta keep your eyes covered, okay? If you're seeing things, this'll help... can't worry about something that isn't there if you can't see it. Hey... have you slept at all? I knew you weren't getting much rest, but... have you been awake since I found you? Because that's really not good for you... get all kinds of sick if you stay awake for too long. Start seein' things, too. I bet that's what's happening... you're seeing things because you need more sleep." Sharpclaw whispers, gathering him closer and just holding him. "You need to sleep, okay?" 

 

No. No no no. Absolutely not. No sleep. No sleep means no nightmares, but... 

But if he's seeing things (and that does seem to be right, he can't hear the goblins now that his eyes are covered), then... then his nightmares are... are going to haunt him even while he's awake. But, even then... this isn't as bad. He doesn't hear them, so... apparently he just sees them. If he only sees them, nothing else, they... they can't hurt him. Hallucinating or not, awake is still better than asleep. Still safer. 

So no. No sleep. Hissing defiantly (as defiantly as he can manage, at least), the wraith shakes his head, fangs bared slightly at the fact that Sharpclaw's hand is still on his face. He's not sure about that. The blindfolding effect is good, but... there's still someone's hand on his face, and it's weird. Doesn't feel  _bad,_ just... just a bit strange. He's not sure what he thinks of it. 

But he's getting distracted. The problem at hand is that Sharpclaw wants him to sleep and sleep is bad. Whining slightly, he shakes his head again, then whimpers as the movement makes him slightly dizzy. 

 

"You really need to sleep... what's wrong? Why don't you want to- oh. Hey, are you... are you afraid of having nightmares?" Sharpclaw whispers, speaking right in his ears in an effort to- he's not sure what. Maybe it's intended to be soothing. 

 

Yes. He doesn't really want to admit it, but yes. "Afraid" is an understatement, though, he's  _terrified_. He- he can't do that again. No. No nightmares. No  _pain._ Please. 

 

"It's okay... I think I have an idea. Gor needs to rest and get something to eat, too, so... might as well stop. Just give me a minute to get Gor unhitched so he can run off- okay? I'll be right back, I promise, just- close your eyes and keep 'em closed. Nothing dangerous is around here... I promise." Sharpclaw croons, then slowly uncovers his eyes, seemingly checking that he's keeping them shut. The hybrid then leaves, to- presumably to unfasten the Warg from the front of the cart. 

 

And then he makes the mistake of looking. 

Not real not real not real, the goblin climbing into the cart is  _not real-_

_Help!_

Skittering backwards, the wraith hisses frantically at what might or might not be a hallucination, then yelps when he feels a hand land on his shoulder. 

Oh, wait, Sharpclaw. Okay, never mind the freaking out, that's someone good. 

Why is he nuzzling Sharpclaw's hand? Why- why does this- what is-  _why is he doing this and why does it feel good-_

 

"Um... okay then. You're really sleepy, then? Alright, no problem... just relax, okay? I'm just going to pick you up... I think I hear running water. Let's see if we can find a nice clearing somewhere, huh?" Sharpclaw whispers, then very gently picks him up, though not before setting a pack in his arms. "Here, hold onto that for me. There's food and such in it." it explains, its voice still soft and soothing as it handles him. "Just relax, Spook... I gotcha. You're safe." 

 

He's being held. For some reason, that seems like a very important thing to focus on. The wraith blinks dizzily up at Sharpclaw, then whines and closes his eyes when the hybrid starts to grow horns. Presumably he's hallucinating again. He'll just- just keep his eyes closed now. Yes. That seems best. Eyes closed. 

After a minute or two of walking, the wraith finds himself being gently set down, and... hmm. Actually feels decent. For one thing, there's... there's sunlight. He doesn't like sunlight in his eyes, but his eyes are closed and his hood is shielding them, and... and there's warm sunlight on his chest. It feels... good. Giving a soft little noise, the wraith slowly relaxes against the softness (moss?) under him, then gives a questioning little noise. What exactly is Sharpclaw doing? This is nice, but... what's going on? 

 

"Okay... you need to sleep. I know you don't want to, and I understand why, but you're going to start feeling even worse if you don't get some rest. So... here's what we're going to do. This is a nice soft streambank, and there's nothing dangerous around. Okay, there's a snake in the stream, but it's headed away from us. You are completely safe. I have knives, Gor is reasonably close, and I am fully capable of beating up or at least strongly discouraging just about anything that lives in this forest. I am not going to let anything hurt you. I'm going to stay right here the entire time, and I am going to keep you safe. I can't punch a nightmare, yeah, but I'm going to stay right here... I'll wake you up if your nightmares come back, I promise. Besides... it's nice here. Might help keep those nightmares away. You don't need to worry about being sunburned, either- you got nice dark skin." 

 

Okay, he's a bit concerned by the word "nice" being used to describe his skin color, but... Sharpclaw's voice is so  _soft,_ and... hmm. Okay, this- this isn't so bad. And- and Sharpclaw has just put the bear cloak around his head and shoulders, further shielding his eyes. No light. That's good. Warmth feels good, too... chest is nice and warm. Feet don't hurt badly. Hands don't hurt at all. Eyes shielded from sunlight. Feels good. 

He's not really sure what to do with his hands now that he's lying on his side instead of being curled up into a ball, so he just tucks them under his chin, and... it does feel decent. His hands are being protected now, and his throat. Good. 

Feels good. 

Everything feels good. 

 

"There you go." Sharpclaw whispers, then rustles around in the bag for a moment, seemingly doing his best to be quiet. "I'll be quiet, don't worry. I just have a few things that need repairing. Need to stitch a few things back up. You go to sleep, okay? You're safe. I got you." 

 

He's... safe? 

Yes. He's safe. Sharpclaw is wearing the hide of a cave bear, after all- it can plainly defend itself. And it does seem very willing to protect him... so, yes, he's... he's safe. But the nightmares- 

The nightmares can't hurt him. Sharpclaw promised to wake him up, and they can't hurt him if Sharpclaw wakes him up. 

He's tired. 

He's so very tired. 

Maybe he'll just... just keep his eyes closed for... for just a few minutes more. 

That's all. 

Just a few minutes. 

 

 

 

...why is it evening? 

No, seriously, why is it evening? 

Oh. 

Is  _that_ how sleeping usually works? Huh. The loss of a large section of time is a bit odd, but... hmm. He actually feels pretty good. 

Okay, yeah. This is... this is good. He's thirsty, though. Maybe he can get some water. 

Slowly sitting up, the wraith blinks a couple of times, then looks down in surprise as he notices something next to him. Evidently Sharpclaw anticipated this need... there's a cup of water set near him. Still a bit sleepy, he picks it up and takes a gulp, then blinks in surprise at a series of loud splashing noises from nearby. He doesn't jump, though- he's not very jumpy, apparently. Besides, that doesn't sound dangerous, just a bit sudden. What was that? 

 

"Oh, hey- got another one!" 

Sharpclaw hauls a fish out of a deep section of the stream, killing it with a sharp blow behind the head, then sets it next to another couple of fish and re-baits the hook. Tossing the hook back in, it twitches the line a couple of times, then glances over at him and offers a soft little smile. "Hey... you've been asleep all day. Didn't have any nightmares, either. Well- you did start twitching at one point, but you calmed down pretty quickly when I reminded you that you're safe here. Here- hold the spool for me while I gut these." 

 

Okay... he'll hold it. What is he supposed to do with this, though? The general idea of this is fairly obvious, but... is a fish really going to bite on what looks like a shred of fish fin? 

Also, where did Sharpclaw get the fish fin in the first place? If he's using a fin to catch fish, and you need a fish to get fish fins, how did- 

He'd distracted from his confusion by the sensation of something yanking on his hand. Startled, the wraith twitches slightly, instinctively drawing his hands back- then grabs the line and starts pulling it in when he realizes that there's a fish on it.

A few seconds later, he has a fish. Now... what, exactly, is he supposed to do with it? Tilting his head slightly, he stares down at the fish, then (tentatively) places a hand on it and tries to pin it. That doesn't really work, it stabs his hand with its fins and slips away. 

 

"Here, I got it." Sharpclaw mutters, easily grabbing the still-hooked fish, then chops its head off in one quick motion with the knife he's using to gut the others. "There. Got 'im. Your hands okay? These guys are really tasty, but they're also pretty sharp." 

 

Giving a slight grumble meant to indicate that yes, he fully aware of that, he inspects his hand for a moment and then nods slightly. He's fine, it didn't draw blood. And, actually... most of him is fine. His feet and leg are still sore, his hands slightly so, but... he's alright. Nothing hurts too badly, and he's feeling... he's feeling so much better. He's still tired, but not painfully so, and he can  _think_ again. He's a bit groggy, but... that'll probably go away once he's been awake for a bit longer. He's definitely feeling a lot better than before, and... okay, yes, Sharpclaw was right about this. Sleep is good. 

 

"Alright... fish don't need long to cook. You take a good long drink of water, I'll get this ready, and then we get a nice meal. Once you've eaten, I think it's a good idea for you to go back to sleep, if you can. You might need more rest., depending on how much sleep you've missed. Oh, and I have a question for you. Were you cursed?" the hybrid asks, gutting the last fish and setting it carefully on a small grill over the campfire that he's set up. "I mean, that spell back there was intended to remove curses, among other things, and... you keep acting like you're surprised by a lot of things that it seems like you oughta know about. I've been thinkin' about it, and... a curse makes sense." 

 

Well, that's... that's uncomfortably close to the truth. However, it... it might get Sharpclaw to stop wondering if the hybrid has an answer. So, yes. Giving a soft little hum of affirmation, the wraith nods slightly, then licks his lips at the scent of the fish. He's... mmm. He's hungry, and that smells very, very good. He'll just have to wait, though- it's dangerous to eat any sort of flesh that hasn't been cooked all the way through. Well- it is for humans. Goblins and orcs usually eat their food raw. He's not certain what, exactly, he is, so... he's not going to risk getting sick from raw fish. That's the last thing he needs. He'll have to wait, but... he's very hungry.

Therefore, when he's offered a piece of fish a few minutes later, he immediately tears into it. He's not about to give up an opportunity for a meal, and table manners are not required when there's no table.

He's not full when he's finished his meal, either. Licking his lips, the wraith eyes the fish cooking over the fire, then glances hopefully at Sharpclaw. He's not going to take the fish without permission, some people are a bit touchy about that sort of thing, but... he is feeling confident enough to pointedly eye it and hope he's given a meal. Sharpclaw seems willing to share, after all. 

 

"Oh, you still hungry? Here- have a piece. It's alright, you can take as much as you'd like... you probably need it more than I do. You're really light, and you look a bit underweight. Those hollow spots under your ribcage really aren't supposed to be there... let's see if we can get you filled out a bit, alright?" Sharpclaw hums, reaching for a piece of fish, then pauses when Gor slinks over to sniff at the wraith. "Okay, I'll just wait 'till he's done, otherwise he'll think it's for him instead. Don't worry, he's not going to hurt you... he's just going to sniff you a bit and figure you out. I've been keeping him away from you so you wouldn't wake up and freak out, so he hasn't had a chance to work out exactly what you are. Let him sniff you a bit, then he'll leave you alone." 

 

Baring his teeth, the wraith leans away from the large muzzle being shoved into his side, though he can't retreat too much- it's either stay still or lean further towards the creek than he's really comfortable doing. Also, there is a very large paw currently planted on his leg- he's not going anywhere until the Warg lets him go. 

He briefly considers lashing out and slapping Gor across the face, since it seems to have been a fairly effective measure in the past, but- he's pinned, there's a set of very large fangs far too close to his side, and he doesn't want to risk upsetting the Warg that is currently shoving its muzzle against his collarbone. Hissing softly, he leans a bit further away from the Warg, then whines slightly when Gor nuzzles its way down his chest. Okay, this is very unnerving, and- and he does  _not_ want a Warg's face in his  _crotch!_ Hissing again, he bristles himself up as much as possible, then changes his mind and curls tighter into himself when Gor glances up at him. No, no, wait- that's a dominant, aggressive gesture, and it might be taken as a threat. Gor is far too large, he can't risk acting like he might be  _challenging_ something that's this much  _larger_ than him, even if- even if he is feeling very small and very, very vulnerable. 

 

Gor sniffs back up along the wraith's front, then leans back slightly, tail thumping against the ground. Giving an enquiring little noise, it perks its ears up, then scoots back and creeps around to lie down next to Sharpclaw instead. Tail thumping again, it grins at the wraith, then nuzzles into Sharpclaw's hand until the half-goblin starts to rub behind its ears. 

"See? He just wanted to figure you out. Sorry about the face-shoving thing... haven't been able to teach him not to do that." Sharpclaw mutters, rubbing behind Gor's ears with one hand, then reaches over and offers another piece of fish to the wraith. "Here you go... eat up. This is about all you should probably have for right now, though- if you eat too much after going hungry for awhile, you'll just end up throwing up, and that's worse for you than just not eating in the first place." 

 

Warning heard. He's definitely going to eat this fish, but he does eat it slower than the first piece... though not by much. Gor is eyeing his meal, for one thing, and the Warg is giving him a look that he's pretty sure is about what he was giving Sharpclaw earlier. He doesn't plan to share, though... he needs this food. Let Sharpclaw feed the overly large Warg. 

 

"Here, Gor, stop staring at his food. You can catch your own." Sharpclaw sighs, then smiles softly, taking a small piece of fish from the fire and offering it to Gor. "Careful, don't eat my hand... there. That's just a treat, though, I don't feel like catching twelve fish just to give you a meal." it mutters, then looks over at him again, its voice soft and reassuring. "Don't worry, he's not going to take your food... he'll just stare at you and make little whimpering noises. I got him trained before he got this big. He's a bit overenthusiastic sometimes, especially with the sniffing, but he knows what he isn't supposed to do. Aside from dropping dead things in my lap- I haven't quite taught him not to do that. He doesn't bring me nasty dead stuff any more, but sometimes he'll bring me something nice and fresh. He hunts for himself, and he somehow manages to catch deer. Big guy usually ends up eating them himself- he eats at least a deer a week, usually- but he sometimes brings me presents. Not that I really mind- I get venison and hides out of the deal. He's half the reason I have so many hides in my cart. I'm just... really not sure how he's catching the deer in the first place. I've never seen him do it. I think he's just outrunning them, or maybe chasing after them until they get tired- he's got a huge stride and a lot of energy, he moves fast and lasts a long time." 

Pausing for a moment, Sharpclaw rubs at Gor's flank for a moment, getting him flipped over and then starting to rough up his belly fur. "Yes, good boy, good boy... you bring me lots of presents, don't you? And in good shape, too- he's brought me intact rabbits, deer with no marks but a couple of puncture wounds in the throat, and once a live chicken. Chicken was kinda damp and really freaked out, but it wasn't hurt." 

Gor pants happily at the belly rubs, tail wagging, then whines and snuggles its head into Sharpclaw's leg. Hindlegs kicking in the air, he gives a soft crooning noise, then glances over at the wraith and reaches towards him with both forepaws.

"No, boy, I don't think he wants to come pet you. Maybe later, huh? It's alright, you didn't do anything wrong. You're just kinda huge. Look at you, huh? Big boy. I think you grew more. Lookit these big ole paws." Sharpclaw coos, lightly smacking at one of the Warg's forepaw pads and then grabbing his paw. "Big feets. Yeah? I bet you don't remember, but when I found you, you were just a little bit bigger than your feets are now. Such a tiny puppy. Well, okay- big puppy, but tiny compared to me, and definitely compared to what you look like now. You were so young, and you just had tiny little teeth- could barely handle fish and eggs. You tried, though, you sure tried. Bet that's why you like fish now, huh? That was your puppy food. I guess it was a good puppy food, too, you got so _big!_ Or maybe it's just because I gave you as much food as I could get for ya." 

Wargs have longer toes than most canines, as well as dewclaws big enough and strong enough to let them climb trees, and Gor is no exception. One huge paw grabs at Sharpclaw's hand, then Gor carefully hooks a nearly three-inch dewclaw around the hybrid's wrist, panting happily up at it and looking thoroughly delighted. It probably doesn't understand what's being said, but it does seem to be enjoying Sharpclaw's rough scratching and the happy tone of its voice. 

 

Oh, is  _that_ what happens when a Warg is fed as much as it can eat? Impressive. 

Wargs in the breeding pits of Mordor were never fed quite that much, they were given just enough to get them to grow. No sense in feeding them any more than was needed, and they didn't have to be fat- hungry Wargs fought better, in fact. No one had ever experimented with stuffing a Warg full of food, and that was apparently a good thing... if all of Mordor's Wargs had been this big, he can think of several battles that would have gone very differently, and... and then there would be quite a bit more blood on his hands. 

There's that guilt again. 

Ow.

 

Gor wags its tail for a moment, watching the wraith, then grins and makes a noise best described as a coo. Crooning happily, it grins upside-down at the unhappy being, then puts its tongue out and wriggles around on its back for a moment. 

 

Heh. What is it doing? 

The wraith can't suppress just a tiny smile at the wriggling antics, then he blinks and tilts his head slightly, startled. Did it... do that on purpose? 

Can it smell guilt? 

No, that's nonsense, it can't smell guilt. Maybe... maybe it can see that he's unhappy, though. 

It just cheered him up on purpose. 

Good boy.

Finishing his piece of fish, the wraith carefully edges just a bit closer, then slowly reaches out and places a hand on Gor's lower jaw. When the Warg pants happily at him, he digs his fingertips in and rubs along the bones of the Warg's powerful jaws, offering just the tiniest smile again when it  _croons_ up at him. Okay, yes, this is apparently good. 

There are paws larger than his head flailing around near him, though. He's not a huge fan of that... he'll just retreat a bit.

 

"Aw, yes, you like that?" Sharpclaw coos, then rubs roughly along the big canine's barrel-like chest, and it makes no move to stop him when he pulls away. "Not too keen on being near a Warg flailing its paws around? That's alright, just- just give him a bit of a pat before you go, so he knows you aren't mad at him. He's a little bit sensitive sometimes- hates to upset people he likes. And he definitely likes you. Which, uh... kinda means you might get presents, too. If he brings a deer, best stand up, or he'll put it in your lap." 

 

Understood. No need to upset the Warg. The wraith pats lightly at Gor's chin, then backs up, edging around to a spot on Sharpclaw's other side. He starts to move away from the hybrid, then pauses, suddenly reluctant to edge away from the warmth and friendliness. He... he'd like to... stay here. Maybe. Maybe just with... right next to... Sharpclaw? Is that... okay? He's not a child, he doesn't need to be  _snuggled,_ but... but he  _wants_ to be. Is that... is that alright? He's pretty sure that he remembers something about it not being good for males to be too physically affectionate, something about people frowning upon it, and... he has a feeling that he should probably know... know Sharpclaw a bit better. Or... is it just that civilized beings (he's not considering the social customs of goblins and orcs- they're savage creatures, and Sharpclaw definitely seems more... more refined. Much less brutish) typically want to know each other fairly well before doing... the sort of thing he does not intend to be doing? He really can't remember. 

Also, now that he's just thought about it... does he even  _have-?_

The wraith subtly shifts around for a moment, then curls tighter into himself, considering his options. Yes, not that he's going to be  _using_ that, but... 

Hmm. Does he want to... move a bit closer?

Yes. He'll just... just try this. See what happens. 

Slowly edging closer, the wraith glances up at Sharpclaw, then cautiously just- just tugs on the bear-skin cloak until the edge of it is around him. When Sharpclaw just glances over and doesn't comment, he edges a bit closer, then very cautiously leans up against Sharpclaw. Glancing up at the hybrid, he licks his lips slightly, then ever-so-cautiously settles against the larger being's side. 

 

Sharpclaw glances down again, then (without taking his hands off the happily panting Warg) offers him a soft little smile. "Hey, it's alright... you're welcome to lean up against me, if you want. Heck... if you want, and if this isn't too forward, you're welcome to come sit in my lap again. You ever hear of skin-hunger?" 

 

No. He's heard of flesh-hunger, but... that's cannibalism, and it's entirely irrelevant here. Sharpclaw is technically edible (and so it he, actually, disturbing as the thought is), but that is not going to be happening. So... no. Shaking his head minutely, he blinks up at Sharpclaw, then clears his throat and just... well, he doesn't entirely try to speak, it- it probably won't work. He does try to make an inquiring little noise, and... it works. Huh. He does have a bit of control over his throat, apparently. Good. He'll need that. 

 

"Well, just about everything that can think has a need for contact with other people. There are exceptions, yes, some people just don't like others- but most at least need a little bit of touch now and then. A lot of people don't get quite enough, actually. Skin-hunger is when someone hasn't had enough touch, and after awhile, it's not so great for someone. Causes anxiety and some other issues, including depression. I have a fairly high need for touch, but Gor is usually enough for me. You... I'm guessing that you haven't been touched in awhile, at least not by someone who isn't trying to hurt you- especially given whatever that curse did. And, actually, I could use a bit more contact m'self. Now, hang on- no need to look at me like that. I'm not- I'm not suggesting we, y'know,  _do_ anything. Okay? You're already pretty nervous, and- for all I know, I'm  _really_ not your type. And- and skin-hunger doesn't always mean a need for  _that_ kind of thing. Some people solve it with that, but just touch is usually enough... like this. Here, how about... you just lean on me. You comfortable with that?" 

 

Woah woah woah, he is  _not_ going to- 

Oh, wait, Sharpclaw isn't suggesting that?

Okay, that... doesn't actually sound so bad. And... and this "skin-hunger" thing might explain why he's feeling like this. Okay, he'll... he'll try this.

Cautiously leaning against Sharpclaw's side, the wraith tenses up for a moment, then slowly relaxes when he gets nothing but a little smile from the hybrid. Oh, alright, this... yeah, he'll take this. Feels good. Sharpclaw is nice and warm, and- 

Heh. He's never heard anything with even a bit of goblin blood avoid using the word "sex". Well, okay- they don't exactly avoid it. More like they have quite a few very strong words for it. Sharpclaw isn't even using the non-vulgar term. It's actually... it makes him feel... safe. If the hybrid isn't even going to  _say_ the word, there's no way it's going to try anything.  _  
_

Maybe Sharpclaw really is as safe as... as it seems like he might be. 

It's not even trying to  _touch_ him. The hybrid is just... just letting him sit here, letting him decide how much contact he wants... leaving him free to pull away.  _  
_

It feels good. 

It feels  _safe_. 

He likes this. 

 

 

 

 

Somewhat to his own surprise, he falls asleep again. 

This time, he ends up dreaming. It's nothing bad, though... some weird thing involving sitting underwater (somehow able to breathe) and using a fishing line to catch birds out of the air. And it never occurs to him that he's dreaming, not until he wakes up and remembers that reality doesn't work that way. 

Huh. Okay, that's... that's not so bad. It's strange, especially the fact that he never thought to recall whether or not he's able to sit underwater without dying, but... actually, he... he kinda likes that kind of dream. It was... fun. And now he's wondering if he can actually do that. Not the sitting-underwater part, of course, but maybe he can catch birds that way. 

He should try it. 

Blinking a couple of times, the wraith slowly turns his head to the side, then blinks as he realizes that his pillow is something... odd. Furry. 

This isn't Sharpclaw, is it? 

Nope.

He's using Gor as a pillow. When did this happen? 

 

"Hey, you're awake. Sorry, had to deal with a few things. I know you don't want to be alone, but I thought you'd be asleep when I got back- and anyway, Gor's here to keep you safe. See?" Sharpclaw hums, pointing out a piece of string as it walks up. The string is tied around Gor's neck and to a smallish rock, and it's very plainly not enough to keep the Warg there, but it's enough to be noticeable. "Wouldn't do a thing to hold him, but it reminds him that he's supposed to stay here. You alright?"

 

Yes, he's fine. Feeling... feeling a lot better, too. He's not tired. Slowly, the wraith sits up, then winces slightly at a sudden stab of pain in his neck. Hissing slightly, he flinches away from the pain as if it's caused by something stabbing him, then hisses again when Sharpclaw kneels in front of him. He hurts, and he's maybe a little bit upset about being left (yes, the Warg is here, but he would have liked at least a notification), and he- ow. There's that pain again. 

 

"Your neck sore?" Sharpclaw asks softly, then slowly offers him a hand, his voice soft. "Come on... give me your hand, come over here. There's a nice cool patch of moss right here... come sit down, and I can help you with that. You probably slept a bit awkwardly, but I can get that loosened up. Just gotta loosen the muscles up a bit. How's a neck rub sound to you?" 

 

He's... not sure. That would involve Sharpclaw touching his neck, and he's not too keen on that idea, but... he doesn't like this pain at all, and... it might feel good, right? He's going to need more details. So... gonna have to ask for clarification. Now... how can he do that? 

First off, he's going to... go over there. He's definitely at least somewhat interested. Cautiously taking the hybrid's hand, he allows himself to be pulled to his feet, bracing himself for pain- and then gives a surprised little noise when standing doesn't hurt nearly as badly as he'd expected. _His_ feet still hurt, yes, but... not too badly. He's okay. He doesn't want to walk much, and he doesn't, but he's okay. He just has to take a few steps and then sit down again, and... okay, cool moss has a nice texture. Blinking, he rubs his hands across the moss for a moment, then flinches slightly when Sharpclaw reaches for him. Leaning back, the wraith pats at the air with one hand in a "wait" gesture, then tilts his head and makes a questioning little noise. Hopefully Sharpclaw will understand. He's not refusing, he just wants to know what this is going to entail. 

 

"Oh, you want... more details? Here, just- give me your hand, alright? I'll demonstrate." Sharpclaw hums, then smiles softly when the wraith cautiously offers a hand. "It's fairly easy to loosen a stiff neck... just have to rub like this, see?" it explains, gently rubbing at his palm with both thumbs. "Just... like this on the back of your neck, or on anywhere that seems particularly stiff. I can be as firm or as gentle as you'd like, I'm not going to touch your throat, and I'll stop immediately if you tell me to. What do you think?" 

 

That sounds... hmm. Alright. He'll... he'll take it. Nodding slightly, the wraith edges a bit closer, then slowly turns around to expose the back of his neck. He can't help but flinch at the first touch, but he manages to get himself to relax after a minute, and... oh, okay, that feels good. That feels...  _oh._ Oh,  _yes._ His hands slowly close on the moss to either side of him, then the wraith just about melts against Sharpclaw's hands, a soft trill escaping him. That feels... just... just incredible. Giving a shivering little noise best described as a  _moan,_ he leans back slightly, allowing himself to just feel good. This... oh. Yes. He hasn't felt anything this nice in- actually, he can't remember anyone doing anything like this for him. And he- he doesn't care how vulnerable he looks. With Sharpclaw here, he's just vulnerable, period. It doesn't matter how much of a show he tries to put on, he's helpless. Completely. 

And maybe that's okay. Maybe, right now, he's... okay. Sharpclaw definitely seems inclined to help him. 

Hang on... what's that noise? The wraith cautiously opens his eyes (when had he closed them?), and is confronted by the sight of a bear across the creek. It's maybe 10 feet from them, staring at them, and... it really doesn't look afraid at all. That might not be so good. Hissing softly in warning, the wraith tenses up all over, then relaxes just a fraction when... when Sharpclaw doesn't... doesn't react badly. Why not? That's a  _bear,_ shouldn't they be at least a little bit-

 

"It's alright... we're fine. Gor is able to take on any bear, and that one doesn't look aggressive anyway. See? It's pretty young. Young bears aren't dangerous unless they have cubs with them. And, see, no cubs. We're good." Sharpclaw hums, then presses one thumb carefully into a spot between two of the vertebrae in his neck, rubbing away a bit of tension. "Here... just relax. You can keep an eye on it, if you want, but I promise we're okay. Besides- bears eat plants and sometimes fish, they don't really have much interest in meat unless it's already dead. He's probably eyeing our fish, but he's not gonna fight Gor for a few pounds of meat. Shoo, bear." 

 

Okay, yes, that... makes sense. Gor is... very large. Very strong. And that bear, compared to Gor, is actually rather small. It definitely looks a bit apprehensive about getting any closer... it's not a threat. 

And _oh,_ that's a good spot. Slowly settling himself back into place, the wraith just leans back against Sharpclaw's hands, crooning very softly in approval at the sensation. That's... oh, yes. He could get used to this. Maybe he can... mmh. Maybe he can get Sharpclaw to do this again, in future? And... and next time... maybe they can do this with the hood down. This feels nice with the hood between the back of his neck and Sharpclaw's hands, and he'd almost like to get that layer of fabric out of the way, but... he's still not sure about lowering the hood. 

Maybe later. 

He'll decide when he's feeling a bit better. 

Hm... actually, he's feeling pretty good right now. Maybe he'll give it some thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't actually remember if the Orcs from Mordor had Wargs or not, it's been awhile since I read the books. I'm assuming so- why ride horses when you can ride something that can fight? Plus, there's a terror bonus that comes from a horse-sized hyena-wolf-thing bearing down on you with its jaws open. Can't get that from a horse.
> 
> Also, I did some math regarding how large Gor could get while still being able to provide for himself. If he weighed about a ton, he'd need about 20 pounds of meat (and bones and skin and misc) a day. I just found out that the Shire is based on rural England, and they have red deer there. That "one deer a week" thing was based on deer with an average size of 100-160 pounds, which would be 5-8 days of meat per deer. Red deer can be anywhere from 200-400 lbs, which is that's at least 10 days of meat per deer. A large (145-pound) grey wolf can eat up to 22 pounds of meat at once, so a Warg 14 times that size could presumably eat about 300 pounds of meat at once. I don't know how common red deer would be in a medieval environment with no guns, but I'd say one deer of some sort per week would be a reasonable number to catch. There are 6 different types of deer in England, as well as wild boars, so I highly doubt a constantly-moving Warg would have much trouble keeping itself fed- even a huge one. If he could catch one red deer a week, there's a decent chance he'd have some left over for Sharpclaw, too.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been slightly over a month since the destruction of the Ring. At this point, the darkness in Mordor is fading rapidly. Also, the various beasts being bred by Sauron for his armies are either free or dead by now, so things like Wargs, trolls, and fell beasts are roaming free. The fell beasts (Nazgul mounts) are what Sharpclaw means when he's describing the giant snake/bat things.

"You wanna climb a tree?" 

 

The wraith opens his eyes and blinks up at Sharpclaw, still a bit sleepy and trying to figure out what that's supposed to mean. He's definitely considering the idea, though, despite his confusion.  
It's been about a week since he started actually sleeping, and he's feeling a whole lot better. He doesn't hurt anywhere near as badly, in fact he just about doesn't hurt at all, and he can  _think_ properly. He's not hungry, he's not thirsty, he's not tired, and he's not so cold. He gets cold now and then, but all he has to do is lean against Sharpclaw to warm up, and he sleeps curled up against the hybrid most nights. He sometimes just falls asleep in random places, but it's usually near Sharpclaw, or at least near some sort of small fire. Thanks to his odd sleeping patterns, he hasn't quite managed to keep track of the days, so he's... really not sure how long it's been. Not too long, he knows that much. Not much more than a week, if that. 

So...  _does_ he want to climb a tree? 

That's probably going to depend on the tree. 

 

Sharpclaw digs around in the usual semi-organized mess of cargo in the wagon, pulling out a folded hide and a flat piece of wood, then grabs a small box and gestures to a very large tree right up next to the wagon. "Sweet chestnut tree. It's nice and big, and there look to be some open places, so I'm hoping we can see where we are from there. Need to update my map a bit. I think we're near a town, too, and I wanna check. You can come if you want to... looks like a fairly easy climb. See? I can help you if you want, I don't mind. And I don't think it'll be too hard on your feet, since they're pretty well bandaged. Besides, the worst blisters were on your heels, and this shouldn't involve too much use of 'em." 

 

Well... he's a bit unsure about this, but... he does want to get a look at where they are. And... Sharpclaw has a rather eager look in those odd red eyes. Apparently the hybrid really wants him to come. So... sure. He's feeling good, he has some energy, and he's curious. He'll try climbing the tree.

Moving a bit slowly, the wraith slips out of the wagon, then arches his back and stretches. It's a long, slow gesture, and it feels  _very_ satisfying. Once his back is un-kinked, he slowly approaches the base of the tree, looking up at it and trying to figure out the best route to take. 

 

"Been a little while since I've climbed a tree... most of 'em won't hold me. Let's see... up here first." Sharpclaw mutters, pulling itself up onto a low branch that stretches out a few feet above the ground. From there, it pushes itself up and climbs onto a higher branch, then smiles and offers him a hand. "C'mon- hop up onto that first branch and I'll give you a hand." it invites, voice soft and soothing. 

 

Okay... that looks simple enough. Placing both hands on the tree trunk, he looks it over for a moment, then grips a knot and carefully pulls himself up onto the low branch. After a moment of consideration, he carefully stands up, suddenly aware of the height difference between himself and Sharpclaw. He definitely can't reach the spot that Sharpclaw so casually climbed up to, not on his own. At least, not without some undignified scrambling. In lieu of said scrambling, he reaches up and takes Sharpclaw's hand, allowing himself to be tugged up onto the next branch. There's another branch above them and slightly to the side that looks good, so maybe if he can just- 

The wraith gives a rather undignified squeak as he's abruptly lifted, then catches on and grabs onto the branch, carefully pulling himself up and then sitting down on the large branch. Tilting his head slightly, he looks their situation over, then slinks a bit further along the branch and settles himself against a tangle of small branches. There, he won't fall out of this spot. Not only that, he can see pretty well. 

 

"Hf." Sharpclaw gives a little noise of effort, hauling itself up onto the branch, then sits down and pulls on a thin rope he's wrapped around his wrist. When he hauls the rope up, there's a deer hide, a flat bit of wood, and a small box anchored to the end. "Here we go. See? This is a map of the area, at least as best as I can manage. May not be perfect, but it's halfway decent." it explains, spreading it out on the board and showing it to the wraith. Sketched out in charcoal is a reasonably precise map, with a compass and a few star details marked out on it. "This is the path I took to get to the Dark Lands, which is this jaggedy bit over here. Haven't been in. I did climb a half-wrecked mountain enough to see in, I just didn't actually go too far in. Giant snake-bat things in there, and there's some wild Wargs that I didn't want to deal with. Gor usually scares other Wargs away, sometimes just by trying to play with them, but I still don't much like trying to deal with 'em. Anyway- didn't go in there. I met those elves at right about here, and I ran into you about here. This little stream here, then one I marked with the X? Gold. Actually quite a lot of it. Stuck around for a week to pan and got a nice little bag full. And, uh- right here is a patch of woods that we do NOT want to go through. Giant spiders. Spiders the size of my freakin' cart. I do NOT do giant spiders. Let's see... ah, here we go. See this tree on the map? Now... look that way." 

 

The wraith looks over in the indicated direction for a moment, then nods slightly in understanding as he spots the tree. It's very large, some sort of pine-like tree that's grown to easily three times the height of the trees around it, and it's hard to miss. He can't see a river at its base, there are other trees in the way, but if the map is accurate there's a river right at the base. Also, upon further inspection, he can just barely see the distinctive webbing-topped trees that warn of giant spiders. Those are foul beasts, and he's not going to risk being anywhere near them. They might recognize him, they might not, but either way he's edible and they will most likely eat him if they get the chance. He's not about to give them the chance. 

 

"Right over near that sequoia tree is a fork in the river. At that fork, there's a trade-town, and they're reasonably welcoming to beings of all species. I went through there on my way down towards the Dark Lands, and they're pretty friendly. There's actually a couple more Wargs living there, though none of 'em are anywhere near as big as Gor. One of 'em's just real old and doesn't care about much, and the other's about half-tame. I plan to head through there, trade supplies. They shouldn't mind you, don't worry. We do need to get you some clothes, among other things, and I'd like to ask if anyone's seen much of anything. Now... we do have to be careful. This area, over here, that's a marsh... and there is something very, very wrong about it. I don't know what, but Gor absolutely refused to go in, and he usually knows what needs to be avoided.  We're about past it by now- actually, yeah, we're definitely past that.

"This area, over here, they call the Brown Lands. Barren place, ruined by war. Those elves are headed up that way to try an' fix it, but we shouldn't go there yet. Gor needs a lot of food, there won't be enough. Right in here, this forest, there are Ents. Honestly, I'd thought they were a myth, but nope. Ents. I didn't stick around, they weren't too friendly towards me, but they didn't seem outright violent. We're over here, kinda near there- could get there pretty quick if we really needed to, like if something bad was following us, but for now we should probably stay away. I'm not sure what they'll think of us. Right here, this is Elf-land. Weird trees there, never die. I haven't really been through there- not too keen on going near archers like Elves that don't know I'm friendly. This, over here- they call this Mirkwood. It's a bit... nasty. Dark. Lots of unpleasant beasties. Fortunately, the spiders seem to be located just here. There are elves living in there, and they've teamed up with the ones from over here to clean things out, apparently. It's reasonably safe through there. So this whole area, here, this is where we want to be. Not too close to Ents or Elves, away from the spiders and whatever lives in that marsh, and still in an area with plenty of food for Gor. You can see where that town is, more or less, so I suggest we head that way. And then... honestly, I wanna go see my ma. She lives, uh- off the edge of this map. Over near more people. There's mountains in the way, but there's a place right about here where we can cross. Before we go through, gotta get a few deer for Gor. He needs to stuff himself, and it's best to pack some meat along for him, mountains are high-energy terrain and the only big prey there can climb cliffs. Gor can climb cliffs, but not very well. So- we head through that town, stock up on useful supplies, nab a few deer, and then head over the mountain range. Sound good?" 

 

Hmm. Heading away from Mordor, away from the reminders of what he's done, does sound nice. And, yes, avoiding Ents and Elves is a good plan. He'd also really rather not go near the giant spiders, he's edible and they would undoubtedly attempt to eat him. Visiting Sharpclaw's mother sounds... well, he's really not sure, but it doesn't sound bad. He's a bit curious who managed to raise such a... such a  _nice_ half-goblin. The mountains don't sound too bad, though the prospect of being somewhere cold with nothing over his chest is... unpleasant. Getting more clothing is a good idea, yes, but... he doesn't want to go into a town. What if he's recognized? Sharpclaw has apparently come from up north somewhere, which explains why the hybrid hasn't recognized him, but someone from a town that's barely over a week away from Mordor is almost entirely certain to recognize him for what he is. 

Or, hang on... maybe not. Right now, the only things that could identify him are his ring and his robes. Yes, he's plainly not human, but Sharpclaw thinks he was under some sort of curse. If they don't mind a large half-goblin and a very large Warg, they probably won't mind a very quiet and formerly cursed being of unknown species. He won't put his gauntlets, boots, or armor back on, and... maybe he'll wrap a bit of a cloth around his finger to hide the ring, pretend it's an injury. He still doesn't want to take the ring off... he's not even sure he can. It's settled into a small groove around his finger, and he doesn't... doesn't feel like struggling with trying to get it off. The robes he can't do anything about, he won't be removing them, but... on their own, they're just a tattered old set of robes. Even if someone sees him and realizes what he is, hopefully they'll change their mind if they're told otherwise. 

Maybe. 

Thing is... he can't object to going to the town without a reason, and he doesn't want Sharpclaw to know that he's keeping a secret. That will most likely lead to Sharpclaw trying to figure out what that secret might be, and... no. That would be very, very bad. So... he'll just have to go with Sharpclaw and try to stay unseen. Shouldn't be too tough, right? So, yes, he'll go. Nodding slightly, the wraith manages a soft little noise, then tries to move closer- and nearly falls out of the tree. Yelping in alarm, he tries to grab at the branch with claws that he isn't wearing any more, then immediately grabs at Sharpclaw when the hybrid reaches for him. Latching onto the larger being's arm, he scrambles into Sharpclaw's lap and grabs onto the hybrid's vest, panting in alarm and staring down off the branch. Whimpering softly, he curls tighter into himself and  _shudders,_ his nails digging into Sharpclaw's front. 

 

"Ow- okay, easy, I got you. You're safe. It's okay, I promise. You're okay. Hey- don't look down, okay? That'll just make it worse. Uh- dropped my map, so- look at me instead?" Sharhpclaw coaxes, gently touching his chin and coaxing him to look up. "You're okay. You're fine. You aren't about to fall, I got you." the hybrid soothes, slowly rubbing a hand up and down his side. "Easy." 

 

Licking his lips, the Ringwraith whines softly up at Sharpclaw, digging his fingernails a bit deeper into the hybrid's front and refusing to let go. He's just going to stay here and hang onto something that's just about as solid as the rest of this tree. The tree can't hold onto him, so this is a better place to be. And, whoops... he's knocked the map and board out of Sharpclaw's lap. 

 

"Don't worry- they're still on a rope. This is why I keep 'em tied to that, I usually end up in a tree or on a cliff to change that map. Gotta be able to see what the heck I'm doing." Sharpclaw explains, then winces slightly, gently tapping the back of his hand. "Okay... you're welcome to hold onto me, I really don't mind, but can you take your fingernails out of my chest? I think I'm bleeding. Ow, this is- this is actually pretty impressive. Heh... odd question, but, that curse- did it turn you into a cat, by any chance? Because I'm really starting to consider it..." the hybrid chuckles, gently rubbing circles over the back of his hand. "Now... can you let go? Or, okay- I'm not asking you to let go, alright? Here... I'll just put my arm around you for a minute, okay? Now you can't fall. And can you please take your nails out of my chest, now?" 

 

Oh. Okay. Yes, he'll just... stop doing that. Giving a soft, apologetic little sound, he slowly pries his nails out of Sharpclaw's vest (and skin), then blinks and tilts his head when he registers the 'cat' thing. No, he... wasn't turned into a cat. But... heh. It's kinda funny. Shaking his head slightly, the wraith chuckles very softly, then shifts his grip to the leather bracer on Sharpclaw's arm. Okay, he probably can't drive his nails through this. And... hmm. Sharpclaw is keeping him from falling, just holding him gently in place... it's nice. The word 'nest' flickers through his mind as he tucks himself further into Sharpclaw's lap, then he leans back and looks out through the branches, surveying the world around him. Well, this is... actually rather nice, now that he's not about to fall. He likes this. For one thing, he can see everything.

 

"Thank you. Just keep your hands there instead, alright? And we can get out of the tree if you want, but we don't have to. We can stay for a bit." Sharpclaw whispers, then gently touches his hand, inspecting the bandages. "I think we can take these off, either way. Those blisters should be about healed up. Here, tell you what... let's give it a try, huh? We should at least see if we can change these. And... hmm. I'm gonna be perfectly honest, you need a bath. I probably do, too. It's best to take these bandages off carefully, so how about we go find a stream somewhere? I can probably get these ones on your hands off first, and then... I'll leave Gor to keep an eye on you and give you some privacy, let you take a nice long bath. By the time you're done, the bandages on your feet should have loosened away from the blisters, and they should come off pretty easily. Sound good?" 

 

Hmm. He probably does need a bath at this point. He's a bit uneasy about the whole no-clothes thing, but Sharpclaw has shown no interest in him so far, and... he's pretty sure he doesn't care if the Warg sees him. It's a Warg, they usually aren't  _interested_ in anything without four legs. Okay, that aspect is... acceptable. He's not hugely thrilled at the idea of the whole thing, but... a bath does sound rather nice. He hasn't had a bath in a long time, but he's pretty sure he remembers liking them before water became such a problem. He's a little bit unsure about removing the bandages, also, that seems like it could potentially be very painful. But... Sharpclaw does seem like he'll try to be gentle, so... might be worth a try. He's pretty sure leaving bandages on for too long will lead to some very unpleasant things. So... yes. Nodding slightly, the wraith looks down at the hand on his, then gives an inquiring little noise and glances up at Sharpclaw. Why is the hybrid's hand still there? He's not complaining, not exactly, he's just... just a bit confused. What does this mean? 

He... doesn't recall what touches to hands mean. Friendly contact among goblins and orcs usually consists of shoving, not... not gentle touches like this. And he's long forgotten social customs among humans. He's no longer human, but... Sharpclaw is acting mostly like what he remembers of humans, and the hybrid has talked about a human mother who raised him "better than most goblins", so... presumably human customs apply here. But... but he still doesn't know what this means. Tilting his head slightly, he slowly turns his hand over, then wraps his fingers around Sharpclaw's in an experimental gesture. 

 

Sharpclaw blinks, clearly surprised, then lightly squeezes his hand in return. "Sorry, I was just... checking on those bandages." he explains, very gently rubbing its thumb over the back of his hand. "So your hands don't hurt any more? That's good... you're healing really well. I'm just confused how you got into that state in the first place... didn't you notice those blisters forming? Or... did you just not have much of a choice about walking, then?" it whispers, its touches soft and soothing as it speaks to him. "That's what it looks like... am I right?" 

 

Yes. That's... that's right. Just... just agree with him, keep him happy. It's not a lie, anyway, he didn't have any choice other than walking. Well, technically he did- it was either keep walking or lie down and die, and walking... seemed a bit less cloaked in despair. Nodding slightly, the wraith gives an affirmative little noise (he's practicing being able to make sounds on purpose so he can communicate better than just answering yes-or-no questions), then tightens his grip just a bit on Sharpclaw's hand. He likes this, for some... illogical reason. It feels good. Soft touch to his hand, soothing, and something he can stop as soon as he wants to. This continues only if he wants it to continue, and that's... that's good. 

He's thinking he might like a bath now, though. So... how's he going to get down from this tree? The wraith looks down off the branch, then leans away from the edge slightly, looking up at Sharpclaw instead. Well? How does Sharpclaw intend to get them down?" 

 

"Ah... wanna go take a bath now? Here... tell you what. I got you, okay? I'm not gonna let you fall, promise." Sharpclaw whispers, then very gently tugs its hand from his grip, instead gently gripping his ribcage with a hand on each side. "Now... I'm gonna lift you a bit and set you on that branch down there, okay? Just be sure you get your feet on it." 

 

He's really a bit skeptical about this, but Sharpclaw is already picking him up, so- apparently he's doing this. He can't help but tense up, despite how easily Sharpclaw lifts him, despite the fact that he  _knows_ the hybrid won't drop him- and he can't help but snarl as he's shifted off the branch. But then his feet are on the lower branch and he's okay and he's alright now but he's still going to grab onto the tree trunk just in case. And then he clings tighter to the tree trunk as Sharpclaw joins him, because he's really not that sure about having something this  _large_ standing behind him, even though he knows it's Sharpclaw, even though he knows it's safe. He's vulnerable, and he doesn't like it. 

Sharpclaw climbs down to the branch below them, then reaches up and grabs him again, and he can't help but  _whine_ as he's pulled away from his solid footing. He's not a fan of being lifted and moved through the air, thank you. He liked riding the Fell Beasts because he could see everything and travel fast, but that was when he could actually rely on himself. Now he actually has a body, and sometimes it does unpredictable things like- 

Like make his entire chest heave in a  _very_ strange way. Yelping slightly in surprise, the wraith stiffens up, then stares down at his own chest for a moment.  _What._ What even was- he was set on the ground a few seconds ago, that jolt wasn't anything to do with fear-  _  
_

 

"Well, you look confused. Relax... 's called hiccups. Not sure how they work, but sometimes that happens to people who've been laughing too hard, or have been messing with their breathing in some other way- like tensing up a lot. Normally you have to either hold your breath for awhile, drink a big glass of water, or get someone to startle you and kinda re-set your breathing. Heh... looks like you might've scared yourself and gotten rid of 'em. That's convenient." Sharpclaw chuckles, grinning at him as he climbs out of the tree. "Now... let's just get Gor to find us a good bathing spot. Hey, Gor- find water, boy. Find water!" 

Gor sits up at the sound of its name, tail wagging, then barks and leaps to its feet with surprising grace for something so large. Tail waving, it sniffs the air for a moment or two, then trots off without waiting for Sharpclaw and the wraith to get into the cart. They can keep up, he's smart enough to know that. 

"I kinda meant wait for us, but oh well- c'mon, best keep up." Sharpclaw chuckles, then scoops him up and sets off after the Warg. "Don't get mad at me, you don't have shoes. I can keep up with him better, anyway." 

 

Woah woah woah  _hey-_

The wraith flails for a moment to get his balance, then relaxes slightly, deciding that he's okay with this. He'd prefer a bit of warning before being scooped up like a small child, but... okay. He's not going to complain too much about not having to walk. Gor runs way too fast. And, what the heck, Sharpclaw is nice and warm.

Okay, this is actually pretty nice... someone is doing all the walking for him. Makes him feel... well, "special" is a bit of a silly word to use, but... he can't think of a better one. So, ah... yes. That. 

Humming very softly, the wraith settles against Sharpclaw's frame, deciding to just relax and... and, well... let himself feel nice. Sharpclaw seems to be very good at doing that. And, uh... why is... there's a hand on... 

Okay, he's a little bit unsure about this, now. Sharpclaw is... is probably just holding him, yes, but... he's just moved a bit, and now Sharpclaw's hand is on his thigh, and... he's a little bit... really unsure about this. Baring his fangs slightly, he taps sharply on the back of Sharpclaw's hand, then relaxes when the hybrid mutters "sorry" and shifts so as not to be grabbing his thigh. Apparently that was accidental, so... it's okay. He's okay. He's... he's still safe. Sharpclaw doesn't intend to hurt him. The hybrid is just very, very... very friendly. And... very prone to touching. A lot of touching. 

He's... really not sure how he feels about how much Sharpclaw tends to touch him. The touches themselves are actually... actually pretty nice. He likes the warmth from the contact, and he... he's fairly sure he likes the attention. Having his existence validated and apparently enjoyed is... pleasing. He's just really not sure how he feels about how  _much_ attention he's getting. True, there isn't much else for Sharpclaw to pay attention to, but... is it really okay for him to... for Sharpclaw to be so... 

Nervously baring his fangs again, the wraith curls into himself slightly, then glances down to get a look at the ground. Soft moss, good. He'll just... just growl slightly and squirm until Sharpclaw puts him down. He needs to think about this and decide what he thinks of the half-goblin's attention. At least he's figured out what he thinks of Gor's attention: it comes with dead things and a lot of licking, and it involves a thing far too large to be jumping on or licking him. In short, although the Warg's sheer enthusiasm and friendly attitude are a nice change from the half-wild beasts he's used to, he would really rather not have said enthusiasm directed towards him. Sharpclaw is (fortunately) more restrained than Gor, and he really doesn't have any objections to the attention that Sharpclaw gives him... he just needs to think about how  _much_ attention he's getting. Is it... appropriate? And... does it mean anything? 

 

Leaving him to his musing for a moment, Sharpclaw un-hitches Gor from the cart, then pushes it over towards the riverbank and presses down on the Warg's hindquarters until it sits. "Okay... I need a bath. I'm going to leave Gor here with you, alright? I'm gonna be right around that bend, but, uh... you're gonna want to give me some warning if you want to come around. And I'll do the same for you- I'm not gonna come over here until I know you're at least wearing pants. Don't worry about Gor, he absolutely doesn't care if someone's wearing clothes or not. I'm not sure he even understands the concept. Uh... oh, here, let me take those bandages off your hands. We should probably just leave the ones on your feet in place for a bit longer, let the water loosen them." 

 

He's a bit unsure about this, but he slowly offers his hands to Sharpclaw, tensing up a bit at the first touch. He's rather aware of how delicate his hands are, and... and he's expecting this to hurt.  _  
_

It doesn't, though, much to his surprise. It's very gentle. It's not entirely comfortable, but it's not painful, and... 

And Sharpclaw is holding his hand, very gently, its touch surprisingly light. It.... hmm. It actually feels good. Slowly closing his hand around Sharpclaw's fingers, the wraith squeezes lightly, then slowly looks up at the larger being. He  _likes_ this, and he... he wants... more. A lot more. That... really concerns him, though. He doesn't  _understand_ why he wants this, but he does, he really does. If he's being honest with himself, he... kinda wants to crawl up under Sharpclaw's shirt and just cling on for awhile. Sharpclaw is warm and nice and  _safe,_ and he... he really wants more. 

He's really getting concerned here. This isn't normal, it's... it's not  _normal_ to want to cling to someone like this... 

Is it? 

He needs to think about this. The very second the bandages are off his hands, he limps away from Sharpclaw and into the shallow water, trying to indicate that he'd like some privacy now. He pauses a few steps in, though, realizing that he's probably going to have to take his pants off at some point. Soaking-wet cloth sounds like it'll leech the heat away from him faster than anything else, and he doesn't need that. He really doesn't need that. 

 

"I won't bother you, promise. Whenever you're done, maybe head back to that little clearing we just walked through, the nice sunny one. I'll meet you there, okay?" Sharpclaw offers, then pats Gor's back with one hand, his voice soft but firm. "Gor, stay. Guard. Good boy." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a tad short because there's a POV shift between it and the next one. Gor is going to chime in with some of his thoughts.
> 
> The average wolf can travel at 5mph all day. Gor is no average wolf, but since he's pulling a cart, I'll stick with the 5mph estimate. None of these nature websites I've found specify how long "all day" is, but if we assume 10 hours, that's 50 miles a day. Gor doesn't need 14 hours of sleep, so he can probably go further, but I'll stick with the conservative estimate for now.  
> I've found a couple of maps with scale bars, and judging by those and these speed estimates, they're easily over near Fangorn forest (the Ent forest) right now. Yes, I know no town or gigantic tree was ever described in that area, but I'm operating under the assumption that they might have just missed a smallish town and its landmark tree. It was either this or send them off East into totally uncharted territory. Granted, I could have done that, but I want to play with:  
> People who might recognize a Ringwraith  
> Sharpclaw and Gor + hobbits  
> Sharpclaw and Gor + dwarves  
> Wraith + ridiculously nice Shire-lands  
> Wraith + more guilt from seeing all the stuff he helped break  
> And possibly giant spiders.  
> Also, the area Sharpclaw refers to as the Dark Land is Mordor.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts with Gor's point of view. Now, he's not thinking quite like this- he's intelligent, but he's not quite sentient, and he doesn't think in words. This is just the closest translation of the impulses running through his mind. He's a smart boy, fully capable of drawing conclusions and deciding what people want, and he does his best to make his Alpha happy.  
> He thinks in ideas, though. No words, no numbers, mostly concrete ideas. He has a grasp of a few abstract ideas, things like the fact that Sharpclaw is his Alpha (and, yes, he thinks of Sharpclaw with the closest thing possible to a capital letter) and the idea of the future. Or, at least, he understands the concept of "things will happen later and I might need food for then". He also knows what consent is, he's very good at reading body language, and he understands what people like.  
> He doesn't know that our wraith is a wraith, of course. He isn't actually thinking "wraith", a closer translation would probably be "odd skinny thing that smells like darkness and makes cat noises", but that is far too long to write out every time. 
> 
> I'm swapping over to Sharpclaw's POV for a good portion of this, though, mostly since he has a better understanding of what's going on and is therefore a better narrator.

Good boy? Yes, yes, he's a good boy. He'll be good and sit here and guard. 

Gor watches Sharpclaw until his Alpha is out of sight, then turns his gaze on the wraith, ears perking up so he can listen for threats. Slightly curious about what might be under the clothes, he tilts his head and watches, his eyes darting over the slender being in front of him. Looks mostly like human, or maybe- no, more like elf. Bony elf with skin like charcoal. Still nervous. 

Is he... oh. He's making skinny wraith nervous. Turning his head slightly away, Gor tries to look casual, then perks his ears and stares down at the water as he sees something move. Raising a paw, he slaps at the water a couple of times, then edges closer and stares again. Fish? Fish. Slippery fish. He's not good at catching fish, they wriggle away. 

 

The wraith spends a minute or two staring at him, then (reluctantly) puts its clothes aside and steps deeper into the water. To Gor's mild confusion, though, the cloak stays on. Why? Alpha takes clothes off to take baths. Wraith is still wearing cloak. Isn't cloak in the way? Oh well... not his problem. Not his skin. He likes baths, but he doesn't intend to jump in right now, mostly because he knows he'll make a big mess. He stirs up a lot of mud, and Alpha doesn't really like mud baths most of the time, so... wraith probably won't like. He'll just sit here, guard, be a good boy- and try to hit the fish. Fishfishfish- he likes how fish taste, but he's not sure how to get. Alpha can get fish, but not by grabbing. Uses a thing with a sharp bit on the end, a bit that _bites_ \- Gor stepped on the sharp bit once, and it wouldn't let go until Alpha made it. Alpha puts a bit of stuff on the sharp bit and throws it in the water, and then- and then it bites fish. Or fish bite it. Whichever it is, Alpha pulls out a fish with the thing biting onto its mouth, and sometimes he gives it to Gor. Gor likes when that happens. Fish have poky bones, but they're tasty tasty. Gor wags his tail at the thought, then whacks at the fish again, though he misses once more- he can't move quite fast enough. And, after a few minutes, he decides that he might as well leave the fish alone. It's not really working. 

Instead, he'll pay attention to the wraith. Which is still taking a bath with its cloak on. But at least it's taking a bath- was starting to not smell so nice, at least to Gor. 

Now, though, maybe not so much. 

_Smells interesting._

Gor licks his lips, parting his jaws slightly to scent better, then edges a bit closer to the water's edge and blinks at the odd being inside. Smells like... like  _strong._ Not Alpha's kind of strong, though- strong like the strong things that can throw rocks without touching. Not too much, though. Not able to throw things. Not yet. Maybe later, when odd thing stops smelling like  _hurt,_ throwing things can happen.  _  
_

Keeps glancing at him. Nervous. Thinks he'll hurt, maybe. Not good. Gor gives a soft little noise, then lowers his head to rest it on the ground, trying to look friendly as he inspects the wraith. And, hmm... he's starting to wonder something. Alpha touches this one a lot. Alpha touches a lot all the time, likes being touched, but... this one more than that. Maybe because this one gets cold? Smells cold, sometimes, and tries to get warm. Yes, makes sense. But also, Alpha probably... probably needs a mate, yes? All things need mates, and Alpha in particular. Alpha smells like a healthy, strong being in the prime of its life, and that's when things find mates. 

Gor has tried bringing his Alpha a mate before, a couple of times. He gets scolded for bringing people over, and he's figured out by now that Alpha doesn't want- hmm. What all does Alpha not want?  

Alpha doesn't like female things, he knows that much. Doesn't like goblins, either- oddly. Or- maybe just doesn't like the snarling, angry ones? He hasn't been able to bring his Alpha any calm, nice goblins that he actually  _likes,_ just the cranky ones. He's gotten lots of scolding for dragging people in, too- they don't like that. Maybe because Alpha doesn't want strangers dropped in his lap. 

This, though... this thing smells nice. He likes this one. And Sharpclaw knows the wraith, and he likes touching this skinny little thing. So not a stranger.

Maybe Alpha likes the wraith. Maybe he... maybe he wants to mate, and that's why he touches this much. Why hasn't he tried anything, though? Wraith likes being touched by him, likes the warmth. Touches a lot. (In Gor's mind, that's permission to at least try asking a little bit. Wargs always have to be careful with new mates, females are very large and don't always react well to being approached. Thanks to that, Gor has some idea of the concept of consent- though it's more of an "ask or get torn up" thing than an "ask to be sure partner is willing" thing.) And... Alpha can probably get yes, right? Wraith likes touches, Alpha likes touches, so no problem.

Except they haven't done anything yet... why? 

Hmm. Alpha has given wraith food, so that's not the problem. Wraith must know Alpha is good mate. 

Wraith fusses at Alpha and wants to keep clothes on. Maybe that's in the way. But right now, clothes are not in the way. Wraith is naked. Well, mostly. Good- much more like natural. 

Alpha isn't here to ask, though. Going to miss this. 

So, then... he'll bring Alpha a present. 

Tail waving, Gor gets up and wades into the water, putting his tongue out in a gesture that makes Alpha (and sometimes other people) laugh. Whurfing in a friendly manner, he stumps over and gently closes his jaws on the back of the wraith's neck, mostly ignoring the protesting hisses. He's not hurting, just scruffing. It'll calm when it realizes. Rumbling gently to the frightened thing in his mouth, Gor wags his tail and carefully pats at the wraith with one forepaw, then sets off to find Sharpclaw.

 

By the time he trots up, wraith isn't struggling any more. Hissing, yes, but not squirming. 

Giving a muffled bark, Gor bounds over and plops himself down, then drops the dripping wraith in his Alpha's lap. Panting happily, he blinks at the pair, then closes his mouth and looks confused when Alpha just gives a startled little noise instead of trying anything. There's a nice, pretty thing in Alpha's lap... why isn't Alpha doing anything? 

Whoops, wraith is running away. 

Game! Chase game! He likes this game! 

Gor tries to run after the wraith, but he immediately skids to a halt when Alpha puts a hand on his shoulder. Head tilted, he looks down at Alpha, then sits down and gives a sad look. Did he... do bad? 

Nooo he did bad. Not very bad, Alpha isn't loud now, but still bad. 

Lowering his head, Gor slinks a couple feet along the ground, trying to look like he's both apologetic and willing to go get the wraith back. Alpha obviously didn't want wraith scared, but- but Gor didn't mean to, he wanted to bring Alpha a present. And... and maybe... maybe make wraith happy, too? Alpha can... can maybe make wraith feel nice. Right? That'll make it better, make wraith not scared. 

No? 

Okay. 

Alpha doesn't look too mad. Probably okay. Maybe just... just look sad and scoot out of the way. Oh, wait- Alpha is going after wraith now, yes? Yes. So he'll follow, help get wraith back. 

Maybe from walking behind Alpha, though, so maybe won't scare wraith. He likes wraith, even though it fusses and hits him sometimes, and he likes how Alpha looks when wraith is close. Alpha likes when fussy wraith lets him touch. Gor was trying to be a good boy, trying to make Alpha happier, and trying to let wraith touch more. 

 

 

 

Sharpclaw, for his part, is busy trying to stop blushing. He's just had a dripping wet, mostly naked wraith dropped in his lap- of  _course_ he's blushing. "Gor, why did you- are you doing that matchmaking thing again? Because, okay- him in my lap, I do not mind. Him in my lap, naked, is- okay, y'know what?" he sighs, lowering his voice slightly in case the wraith is nearby. "Him, dripping wet, is not something that I mind so much. The problem is, he's not wearing pants, and you  _scared_ him. I... I gotta find him and tell him that it's okay, that I wasn't going to _hurt_ him. I... need to be sure he knows he's safe. Now... lemme just go grab his pants so we can help him calm down." 

After a quick side trip to get the wraith's pants back, he sets off in the direction that the frightened being headed, sighing softly and seriously hoping that the wraith hasn't run into anything dangerous or just gotten too far away to find in any reasonable amount of time. Fear and adrenaline are great motivators. 

 

Fortunately, their vaguely cat-like companion evidently has slightly cat-like instincts. Not too far from where Sharpclaw had been, he walks up to a large oak tree and stares up into the branches for a moment, then sighs and glances away when he's hissed at. "Well, there you are. Hey, I... I'm really sorry. I didn't tell Gor to do that, I promise, he just- well, I guess he's trying to..."  _don't tell him Gor's trying to set you up or he'll freak out_ "...I don't know. But, uh... yeah. I didn't ask him for that. And... I have your pants, if you wanna come down and get them." he offers, holding said pants out, then glances up at the wraith again at an embarrassed little whimper. "What's wrong? Are... are you... oh. You're stuck, aren't you." 

It's not a question. He's very plainly stuck. And that's... unfortunate. 

_I'm gonna have to go up there and help him, aren't I? I... really hope he's... okay, good, he's got his cloak over the... important parts. That's good._

"Hey, Spook... is it okay if I come up there and try to help you out? I'm... not gonna look, I promise. You're plainly not comfortable with this, and I'm not going to do anything that makes you uncomfortable on purpose. I'm not... not that kind of person. So can I come up there and help you get down?" he ventures, not coming up the tree without permission. He really doesn't want to scare the wraith further up into the branches, like what cats do sometimes- that seems like it would be a very difficult thing to fix, having this skinny little thing stuck further up a tree than he can reach. 

 

The wraith stares down at him for a moment, bright gold eyes glinting sharply from the darkness beneath his hood, then shifts his grip slightly and nods- just a bit. He's clearly reluctant, and he's definitely doing his best to keep the cloak wrapped around his hips, but he's not refusing- apparently he's very stuck.

 

"Okay, then. You just, uh, try to relax... I'm going to see if I can get up there. Hang on, okay? Tree might move a bit." he warns, then grips a tree branch and hauls himself up, clambering up into the branches. "Okay... sturdy tree, so we're probably good. Now... I'm gonna come over there, and you can just, uh... wait there for a second." he soothes, slowly edging closer, then reaches out with one hand and offers it to the wraith. "You okay with me picking you up? You can keep your cloak wrapped around yourself, of course- whatever keeps you comfortable. Now... give me your hand? I've got you, I promise."  

When the frightened being very cautiously takes his hand, Sharpclaw squeezes very gently, then tugs lightly and coaxes him to edge a bit closer. Once he's close enough, Sharpclaw very gently scoops him up, cradling the slender thing close and helping him keep the cloak in place. "There, see? I got you. Now... let's get you out of this tree. This, uh, might take a bit of-!" 

He's abruptly cut off by a very alarming cracking sound from the branch he's just braced a foot against. Which, half a second later, is no longer attached to the rest of the tree. He probably should have picked a better branch, but he was maybe a little bit distracted by the skinny, dripping wet, mostly-naked wraith curling up against his chest. And hey, who can blame him? That's a very distracting thing to have happening. Especially when he moves and said wraith suddenly has both arms wrapped tightly around him. 

Yelping in alarm, he tries to grab onto the tree a bit better, though keeping one arm around the suddenly terrified wraith doesn't help- and it doesn't really work so well. 

It's probably a good thing there's thick leaf litter under the tree. Otherwise he might have more of a problem. As it is, the breath is knocked from his lungs, and his vision is filled with stars for a moment.

When it clears, the wraith is leaning over him and patting at his face. Not something he particularly minds. He should probably do something about the concerned little chirps. Raising a hand slightly, he pats the wraith's shoulder in a reassuring manner, then gasps softly as his lungs start working again. "Whew- okay, okay, I'm good. Lungs stopped working so well for a bit, but I'm fine now. See? I'm good. There's a lot of leaf litter down here. It's okay, I'm not hurt... and you can get off my chest and get your pants back now. If you want." 

Judging by the (embarrassed?) chirp and quick scramble, that's a yes. "I'm just gonna lie here for a minute and get my lungs back. I'm fine, I just... I need a minute. Gor, please don't- mmph." 

 

Alpha fell out of a tree! 

Gor whines, circling his Alpha for a moment or two, then places a paw on his chest and starts licking at his face. Maybe this will help. 

Yay, it helped! Alpha is sitting up now! Gor bounces away from him, then circles around and plops himself down in one of the wraith's escape routes, hoping he'll at least run back towards camp if frightened again. 

 

"Gor, I don't need slobber on my face." Sharpclaw mutters, wiping the Warg saliva off his face with one sleeve, then pointedly glances away from the wraith. "Uh... we can go back when you get your pants back on, okay?" 

A few seconds later, there's a hand lightly touching his. Curious, he glances down, then turns and offers the wraith a soft little smile. "Hey there. It's okay, I promise... I'm okay. Hey- you alright? Did you get hurt at all? I don't think that was too much of a fall, but... might be worse by your standards, I don't know. I'm kinda durable. You look... maybe not so much. Especially your hands- they okay? I think you had an arm around me- let me see." he orders softly, suddenly worried and wanting to check if his companion is okay. Holding out a hand, he manages to coax the wraith a bit closer, then carefully pries one arm away from where it's clamped to the slender being's side. "Let me see... I'll be gentle, I promise. Can you move your fingers?" he whispers, then relaxes a bit when the wraith obliges. "Okay, and... can you bend your arm? Does your wrist swivel right? Okay, good. Doesn't look like anything's broken... let me just feel along here a bit. Does any of this hurt badly? No? Good. This is probably going to bruise up a bit, but it doesn't seem like you're badly hurt. Nothing seems broken. Just try not to use that arm too much for a bit, okay?" he cautions softly, then sighs and doesn't resist when the wraith pulls away and starts backing up. _Oh no... he's still scared, isn't he? I really need to fix that- I gotta get him to understand that I'm not going to hurt him. Or- or anything else. It doesn't matter if he is dripping wet and not wearing a shirt, I'm not going to touch him without permission._

_Here goes._

Sitting back and trying to look harmless, Sharpclaw softens his voice and meets the wraith's eyes, speaking gently but rather quickly before the frightened being can bolt. "And- and are you... alright? I mean... you know I'm not going to try to... I'm not going to hurt you. I... really didn't ask Gor to bring you to me. I know you aren't comfortable with being around me when you're, uh, not all the way clothed. I don't think anybody is. Don't blame you, really. A-and I'm not going to force that, I don't want to- look, I'm not a bad person, okay? I don't... don't like making people uncomfortable, and I don't force anything that involves people not wearing clothes. Or, at least, pants- I know you didn't want me to take that armor off you earlier, and I really am sorry for that. Okay, I'm- I'm kinda rambling here, but the point is, you're safe. Okay? I'm not going to do anything to you. You have my word." 

 

After a minute of staring at him, the wraith (much to Sharpclaw's delight) stops retreating. And then, after a moment apparently spent thinking, the slender being edges closer to him. It's limping, though... probably from upsetting those blisters.

 

Poor thing must be in a lot of pain. Sharpclaw hums soothingly to him, then offers a hand, voice soft and gentle as he tries to help. "Hey... those bandages look loose. Tell you what... how about you edge over here and let me take them off? We can see if your feet are healing up well. You can, uh... here, come sit on this log." he coaxes, scooting over and sitting near said log. "Just let me see your feet, okay?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this one's a bit short, but I need to flip back over to the wraith's POV. Sharpclaw and Gor tend to share at least some portion of a mind, they fit well together as narrators, but our wraith is seeing things from an entirely different standpoint. Sharpclaw and Gor are very confident, mostly because most people can't hurt them, but our poor wraith is terrified. He sees everything as much more dangerous than his oversized companions are seeing.


	10. Chapter 10

He's... not so sure about this. Sharpclaw's little speech was very convincing, so he's fairly sure that Sharpclaw won't hurt him, but... he doesn't want anyone touching the bandages that are still wrapped around his feet. Those weren't fun to put on, and he's fairly sure they'll hurt when being taken off, especially if they're stuck on. That... sounds very painful. He doesn't want that. 

But he's seen what happens when wounds are just left to fester... he really doesn't want that. So... maybe he should just... just limp over and hope Sharpclaw will be gentle with him. The hybrid has been very careful in the past, far from the 'medics' he's used to, so... this might not actually be so bad. Biting his lip in a nervous gesture, he slinks over and sits down on the log, then flinches slightly when Sharpclaw touches his ankle. He's not happy with this, but- he's just going to dig his nails into the moss on the log and hope this doesn't hurt too badly. 

It doesn't. It's not too comfortable, but the bandages have been loosened by the soaking in the creek, and they come off easily. And, actually... that's not... huh. He'd... he'd been expecting these blisters to look a lot worse, but they're actually not that bad. The spots where they'd been are visible, but just barely, and an experimental touch doesn't produce too much pain. The stinging pain that had been making him limp a minute ago was probably from running a short distance at top speed and then scrambling up a tree, he's... not actually in any serious pain any more. 

 

"There you go... look at that. Those aren't so bad any more. I'm guessing they're still a bit sore, but see? They're healing up real well. These bandages are a bit icky, so I think I'm gonna hang these off a stick in the stream for a bit to rinse 'em and then toss them in some boiling water to be sure they're clean. Might not want to put them back on for awhile, if at all. We need to let these dry out a bit... along with the rest of you. You wanna go sprawl out in the sun?" Sharpclaw asks, still lightly gripping one of his heels in one hand. "I can, uh... I can carry you, if you'd prefer not to walk, or maybe you can ride Gor. He won't mind. And I don't think he'll grab you again, he got all sad a minute ago when he realized that he'd scared you off. Didn't you, boy?" 

Aaand now the Warg is slinking up on him again. 

Gor creeps over to the log on its belly, ears and tail low, giving a series of sad little whining noises as the wraith retreats from him. Changing tactics, it creeps over and nuzzles at the much smaller being's feet, whimpering pleadingly and trying to- well, apparently trying to apologize. Despite the fact that it's a very large and very bulky Warg, it somehow manages to put a very remorseful look on its face, especially in its eyes. Tail curled up between its legs, it whimpers very softly up at him, then backs up slightly and rolls over onto its back. 

"Aw, see? He's sorry, he didn't mean to upset you. His tail was waving when he walked up, he was happy- he thought that whatever he was trying to do would make us happy too. He likes that. He's friendly and he likes making people feel nice, and he doesn't upset people that he likes on purpose. He likes you... he's tryin' to make you feel good. Look, he's trying to apologize... see? Sad face. Can't be mad at that face for long, can ya?" 

 

Yes he can. It  _scared_ him, it really scared him. After all, there's really only one reason for anything to show more interest in him without clothes than with them, and- ugh. He'd really thought that either Sharpclaw or Gor intended to- 

But... oh. Gor is... is really looking... how can a giant Warg look so  _sad?_ It... it really looks like... 

Oh, okay, fine. He'll... he'll let the Warg know that it's okay. It's not like it was trying to upset him. Reaching down, he rubs gently along the Warg's jawline, then roughens his rubbing somewhat when it croons up at him. Alright, this... this is...

Maybe he's not actually that mad. 

Maybe Sharpclaw's right about not being able to be mad at this very sad face. 

Gor really did mean well, then? Alright, he... he really can't be too mad at it for that. Digging his fingertips in a bit further, he scratches the Warg's chin for a few more minutes, then pulls back and pats at its muzzle to shoo it away. That's enough chin scratches. Gor regularly comes back dripping wet, apparently having taken a bath, but Wargs never smell all that great. Especially their breath- which isn't surprising for a beast that's glad to eat carrion. He still doesn't want the Warg panting in his face. Nooo thank you.  _  
_

 

Gor flips over and crawls over to Sharpclaw, tail wagging slightly, now looking considerably happier as it watches the two of them. 

"Okay... tell you what. I still need a bath, I got a bit distracted. So how about we go to that nice sunny clearing, you stretch out in the sun, and I leave Gor to keep you company while I take a bath? I can order him not to scruff you again, but... I think he understands that you don't want that to happen again. He's pretty smart." Sharpclaw hums, then stands up, offering him a hand and not trying to grab him without permission. "How does standing feel? If you don't want to walk, like I said, Gor or I can give you a lift." 

 

Gently taking Sharpclaw's hand, he pulls himself to his feet, instinctively tensing up in anticipation of pain- then relaxes a fraction when it doesn't hurt nearly as bad as he's expecting it to. He's not too comfortable, but it's not bad... just not great. Ow. Okay, he'd rather not walk right now, but... Gor's fur is thick and soft. The Warg doesn't seem likely to intentionally hurt him, so he... he'll give that a try. Limping over, he firmly grips the thick ruff around Gor's neck, pulling himself up onto the Warg's back and then kicking a heel lightly against its side in an effort to get it to move. 

 

Gor snuffs inquiringly at his leg as he climbs on, then twists its head around as much as it can and grins up at him, tail wagging in a gesture of delight as it ever-so-carefully stands up. Apparently it likes having him there. It starts to leap off after Sharpclaw when the hybrid starts to leave, then it abruptly stops itself, instead walking carefully and moving slowly enough that he has no trouble staying on. 

 

Hmm. He actually rather likes this. Humming softly to himself, the wraith shifts to sit cross-legged, gripping Gor's thick fur in both hands so he can stay on. There's a short mane down the Warg's back, between its shoulder blades, and he can easily get two handfuls of hairs that are at least six inches long. Gor doesn't seem to mind, either, even when he gives an experimental little tug to see what happens. Nothing much, the Warg doesn't even glance back and probably doesn't even feel it. Thick hide. Very thick hide, by the feel of it. Extremely powerful muscles, of course... though they do feel stronger from this close. And, okay... he's suddenly feeling even weaker than normal, at least in comparison. His hands are over Gor's shoulders, and he can feel the huge muscles shifting with every motion... it's impressive. Digging his fingertips in slightly, the wraith inspects Gor's shoulder blades for a moment, then leans forwards and slides one hand up along the powerful neck to the back of the Warg's jaw. There's a massive bulge of muscle here, and... wow. This is more muscle than some men have in their arms. And combine that with every bit of muscle in Gor's thick neck, plus his full weight, apply it all to- 

Ghosting his fingertips up a bit further, he lightly tugs the cooperative Warg's lip out of the way, then retreats when he gets a look at the utterly  _massive_ fangs in Gor's mouth. Most of the fangs are easily a couple of inches long, and the canine fangs are  _huge,_ probably six or seven inches long. They're longer than the distance from his palms to his fingertips, and he's... not going to keep his hand near there. No thanks. Those are practically daggers. 

He is... definitely not going to do anything to make Gor mad at him. Those fangs had completely missed his skin before, they'd just been clamped onto the back of his cloak, but... wow. Gor could easily shatter his skull, break a limb, or just outright crush his ribcage in those jaws. 

He's a bit creeped out now. 

He's going to stay up here, though. This is much better than walking. Gor's fur, though thick and rather coarse, is a lot softer to the touch than the assorted forest litter on the ground. Much easier on his feet, and hey, he doesn't have to walk. Besides... creepy strength or not, Gor's musculature is impressive and rather interesting to inspect. 

 

Still, once they're in a nice little clearing, he slips off the Warg's back and edges away from the large canine. Instead, he just locates a nice soft spot and sits down, then gives a warning little hiss when Gor tries to get closer to him. No thank you. No more scritches. Drawing back slightly, he gives another little hiss, then relaxes when Gor backs away. Good, apparently the Warg understands him. Giving a slight nod as a gesture of approval, he watches Gor for a moment more, then turns his attention to a large beetle trundling towards his leg. Large pincers and claws on its feet... hmm. Does he want that on him? No he does not. Picking up a twig, he pokes at the beetle until it bites onto the twig, then lifts it up and flicks it away. 

 

"Okay, I'm just going to, uh..." Sharpclaw pauses, pushing down on Gor's haunches until the Warg sits down, then pats the large canine on the head. "Good boy, Gor. Stay. Stand guard, boy. And I don't need him dropped in my lap, thanks, he'll come sit in my lap if he decides he wants to." the hybrid sighs, rubbing behind Gor's ears and then turning to walk away. "If  you need me, I'll be taking a bath. You'll, uh, want to give me some heads-up if you're coming over... gimme a chance to get my pants on. Okay?" 

 

Okay. No desire to see Sharpclaw naked. Well, alright- shirtless might be interesting, a bit like his inspections of Gor. He's a bit curious about Sharpclaw's build under that cloak, actually, he'd like to find out if the hybrid's skeleton is closer to a human's than a goblin's. It seems to be, but he'd... he'd like to check. He's allowed to be curious, right? Yes, of course. Just- just maybe not- not like this. He is not going to ask if he can take a look under Sharpclaw's shirt, because there are  _so_ many ways that could be interpreted wrongly and he cannot possibly ask properly without being able to speak. And he still can't speak, not quite. He can make noises at Sharpclaw, but he can't yet say anything...

Though, maybe he should try? Sharpclaw isn't around to hear, after all. Nobody here but Gor. And he does need to be able to talk... it's a useful skill. Licking his lips, the wraith gives a gradually descending trill to test what his throat can do, then follows it up with a "shrrr" noise and a couple of tongue-clicks. Okay, maybe no more tongue-clicks, Gor is giving him a very inquiring look and seems about ready to come bounding over. Maybe just... more assorted noise. 

No, he's still earning more odd looks. Apparently Gor doesn't understand what he's doing. Well, alright, he's just going to keep making noises and being stared at. There is a very confused look on the Warg's face, and... it's actually a bit... cute. Head tilted, ears tilted even further, eyes wide, one paw raised in a gesture halfway between advancing and retreating. Heh. He's just going to keep doing this and watching the increasingly confused responses. 

 

Awhile later, though, Gor is no longer watching him. The Warg is staring at something in the bushes, and... looking increasingly alarmed. 

Looking incredibly alarmed. 

Starting to retreat. 

 

He doesn't want to know what could possibly be scaring Gor. He's just going to... start slinking away.

And then Gor yelps in fear and he absolutely changes his mind about slowly retreating. Gor can probably handle whatever it is. If not, the Warg can probably run fast enough to avoid whatever it is. Giving a soft little noise of dismay, the wraith bolts off, just heading along what looks like the easiest path for his feet- there's soft grass this way. Besides, he's fairly sure Sharpclaw is this way- 

Except he kinda forgot that Sharpclaw is taking a bath and therefore is  _naked._ Fluffing himself up in alarm, the wraith freezes up, eyes very wide indeed at what he's just encountered. Well. Sharpclaw is definitely naked. Also deep enough in the river for him to not be seeing anything much, but- definitely naked. And soaking wet. And, okay, quite muscular. And, um. Okay. 

And then Sharpclaw notices him. Nope. He's leaving as fast as he can manage  _that's a bramble thicket-_

_Ow._

Uh oh.

 

"GAH- Uh, okay, why are you-" there's a loud splashing noise that suggests Sharpclaw has most likely sat down as fast as possible, and he sounds very embarrassed when he speaks again. "Uh- oh, wait, are you- oh, damn, are you stuck? Uh, hang on... let me get my pants." 

 

Oh no. 

No no no no. 

He's just stepped into a hollow in the ground, and there must be a spring in the bottom of the hollow because it's absolutely packed with brambles. In his haste to escape both whatever was scaring Gor and the awkward situation he's just run into, he's gotten himself thoroughly entangled, and... and he's stuck. He can't... can't get out, and... by the flaming eye of Sauron _he can hear Sharpclaw coming up behind him_ - 

He tries to shriek at the hybrid and scare it off. Unfortunately, fear is not conducive to threatening shrieks, and he ends up making a sort of... hissing wheeze. It is not terrifying. It's really just pitiful. Whining softly in a combination of fear and embarrassment, the wraith cringes into himself, then shrieks (sort of) again when Sharpclaw touches his shoulder.  _NO._ Sharpclaw was just taking a bath _and he is not letting that near him-_

 

"Easy, easy, easy... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, I- well, uh, I'm wearing pants now. Not wearing a shirt or that cloak, but... I'm not naked, if that's what you're worried about. That'd be... kinda awkward. I'd put the rest of my clothes on, but I think we need to get you outta there first. What were you running from, before you, uh, ran into me? Did Gor- oh, no, now I hear him. Don't worry, I know that yelp... he's okay. He's found a snake. Poor boy was bitten by a venomous snake when he was a puppy and nearly died, so now he's terrified of snakes. Even the nonvenomous ones- I'm not sure if he can't tell the difference or if he just doesn't care. He's just gonna yelp and hop around that spot for a bit and then the snake'll get annoyed and leave and he'll be fine. We just need to focus on getting you outta this mess, alright? Now... is it okay if I touch you? How about just the back of your neck? I'm not gonna scuff you like Gor did, promise, I just... I'm gonna see if I can calm you down a bit. How's a neck rub sound?" 

 

Oh. Gor was just... just afraid of a snake. Evidently his fear was not required. It was logical, though- after all, the very large and very strong Warg was afraid of something. Running from that something is probably a good plan in most situations. 

And... and is he okay with... 

Yes, actually, that... a neck rub doesn't sound so bad. He... he knows what that feels like, thanks to Sharpclaw, and it feels good. So... just a neck rub? Alright. Humming very softly, he nods as much as he can manage without digging a thorny branch further into his temple, then relaxes a bit when Sharpclaw carefully eases that particular branch away from his face. He can't help but tense up at the first touch to the back of his neck, still incredibly not comfortable with what's happening, but... it doesn't take him long to relax. That really does feel good. 

Really good. Okay, he likes this. Well- he doesn't like the thorns digging into him in various places. He does like the firm rubbing along the back of his neck. Maybe he can... can ask for more of this later. Or, no... hard to communicate. Unless he just marches up, sits down in front of Sharpclaw, grabs the hybrid's hand, and puts it on his scruff. That should be hard to misinterpret. Later, though. 

 

"There... see? It's alright, you don't have to be so tense. Well, okay- it's not completely alright, you're in a thornbush, but I'm gonna get you out of there. Just need to relax so I can get you out without just hauling you out. Now... may I touch your side? I'm going to try to help you relax a bit more, and I'm going to see if I might be able to lift you ou-" 

And then Sharpclaw takes one step closer, something gives under its weight, and he's no longer alone in the thornbush. 

 

The wraith  _shrills_ in alarm, back arching as he tries to  _get away,_ then whimpers and shuts his eyes in an attempt to shut out the  _much larger creature pressed up against his back pinning him in place able to overwhelm him at will and pin him down and make him do anything it wants no matter what he thinks-_

The brambles rattle furiously for a moment as he tries to scramble away, then he whimpers again at a firm grip around his midsection, as one of Sharpclaw's arms settles around his middle and the other comes up to _cover his eyes-_

 

"Easy, easy, easy- I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I just- I slipped. Hey, hey, stop squirming- please? You're going to stab an eye out on one of these thorns. No no, don't struggle, and- and please don't bite me, I'm just trying to keep you from gashing your face up on all these brambles. I'm not going to hurt you, I'm not going to hurt you, I'm not going to hurt you... try to calm down, okay? This'll be done with soon." 

Not a good choice of words, apparently, it only sets off another bout of flailing- at least until the thorns really start to register.

 

When he realizes that he's only stabbing himself more, he just whimpers once more and goes still, quivering all over and internally pleading for mercy. There is a nearly-naked and very powerful being pressed up against his back and he's still wearing nothing but his pants and a tattered cloak and he's really not entirely certain that all of what he's feeling is  _fear_ but what else would it be and  _why is he so aware that Sharpclaw is wet?_ Whining softly in confusion, the wraith shivers and slowly turns his head to the side, looking up at Sharpclaw and just... just trying to understand what... what's happening. He's scared, yes, but... but some part of him is... is something else entirely. Maybe... no, he really doesn't have any idea what this is, except that it- it starts to increase a bit as he- as Sharpclaw's hand brushes gently across his stomach.  _  
_

 

"I'm not going to hurt you... I promise. I'm never going to hurt you. I'm just... just going to keep doing what I was doing before, alright? Just gonna keep rubbing the back of your neck, just like this... though I think I'm going to have to keep my hand on your stomach. I'm sorry, I know it's a bit personal, but you're just going to get even more tangled up if you try to bolt. Plus... there's a branch pressed against my hand, and it's going to hit your stomach if I move. So... how's this? Is there anything I need to stop doing?" Sharpclaw whispers, one hand still very gently resting on his stomach as its other hand carefully pries at the branches around him. "I can stop if you want, it's okay, but it's probably best if I keep my hand here. What do you say? Do you want me to stop?"

 

Maybe. 

He's really not sure. 

This feels... good. Maybe. He's not sure about this at all, but Sharpclaw's hand on his stomach is firm and warm and  _nice_ and the hybrid is gently easing the thorny branches away from him... he likes that part, at least. He's not sure about the hand on his stomach, and he's- he's  _very_ not sure about the fear-but-not-fear running up and down his spine, and- he doesn't know what this  _is_ or what to  _do_ with it or if he wants it to go away or not or if it's  _bad_ or not- whining slightly, he squirms for a moment, then stills when Sharpclaw starts to pull away. Firmly gripping the hybrid's wrist, he tugs Sharpclaw's hand back to his stomach in a firm gesture that he would like that hand to stay there. It's warm, and... he's fairly sure he likes it. 

 

"Okay, so... I'm not upsetting you, just what's happening is upsetting you? Alright. Can you try to relax and maybe lean back against me? If you can relax enough, I think I can get you out of here. Gonna end up a bit damp by the end of it, sorry, but you're gonna be fine. Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just going to keep this hand on your stomach, and I'm going to keep trying to move these branches out of the way. If you can get all your weight against me, I can probably scoop you up. Good?" Sharpclaw whispers, then smiles softly when the wraith nods just a tiny bit. "Good. And, hey... just wanna be sure you know this. I like to touch people, and I like being touched. That doesn't mean you  _have_ to let me touch you, though. If you ever say no, I will absolutely stop. You do seem to like at least some of what I'm doing, but... if I ever do anything you don't like, I want you to tell me. I don't want to make you uncomfortable." 

 

Okay, that's... that's good. The wraith nods just slightly in understanding, then leans back against Sharpclaw, trying to take the weight off his feet and maybe get loose. Sharpclaw is actually being very... nice. This is not a wonderful situation, but it could be much worse, and Sharpclaw is... is touching him in a way that actually feels rather good. 

That feeling bubbling in his stomach won't go away, though. In fact, Sharpclaw's touches are... are actually making him feel... kind of... is this a  _good_ feeling? Because it feels... rather familiar, actually. Like something he really ought to know about. Feels like... a bit like...  _heat._ Heat and  _need._ He's really not certain about this, _really_ not certain about it- he just- he feels- he's  _scared,_ and he doesn't understand what's- 

Licking his lips, he raises a hand a bit and gives a soft, scared little noise, trying to get Sharpclaw to- to just-  _explain?_ Please? This- this feels familiar, a very old memory, so- so it must be something that happens to living beings, and Sharpclaw probably- probably knows what's wrong. He just... how is he supposed to explain what's wrong? This isn't... isn't something he can deal with. He really just needs some help, something to explain what's happening and how he can deal with it. Whining softly, he bares his fangs and looks up at Sharpclaw for a moment, then licks his lips and glances away. Somehow this doesn't feel quite right... should he maybe not be pointing out... what is this? 

 

"Is something wrong? Well- something new?" Sharpclaw asks softly, then gently slides a hand down his side, pausing just above his hip. "Okay... this is gonna be a bit awkward, but I need to reach down and get your leg out. Just... give me a minute." the hybrid whispers, then quickly slides one hand down his leg, firmly gripping his ankle and then carefully lifting. After a moment of careful maneuvering, it's gotten the wraith's foot out, though... that does leave an awkward situation. He's now stuck in the brambles with thorns on several sides, standing on one foot, with Sharpclaw holding onto his other foot and keeping a hand around his stomach so he won't just fall over. He's not really able to get out of this on his own, and he's not going to be able to move away from Sharpclaw at all. He's a bit scared, honestly, but he's really just focused on the sensation of whatever this very, very strange thing is. He wants to know what this is, and he would like it to stop now, thanks. Maybe. He's really not sure. Maybe he can decide once he figures out what this feeling is. 

 

"Okay. This is a bit more awkward, but... progress. Now, I'm gonna step back just a bit and see if I can get out of the thorns." Sharpclaw decides, shifting around for a moment, then manages to step back and up onto the outer edge of the bramble-filled hollow. "Hah, there. Progress!" 

 

 

A few minutes later, though, they've... made progress, technically. Some of it is backwards progress, though. They've gotten very tangled up. Somehow, Sharpclaw has gotten itself positioned with one arm across his front and that hand gently gripping his ankle, and its other hand is currently... currently brushing against his inner thigh in an attempt to coax a thorny branch away. Also, he's identified the odd feeling that will not leave him alone. Mostly. It's... heh. Not something he wants to admit. At all. Because  _dammit_ this raises so many  _questions_ about- 

What is he supposed to- 

Aaah okay he'd like to move now. Whining in embarrassment, the wraith does his best to arch away from the arm pressed up against his groin, though it doesn't do anything other than... well, press him back against Sharpclaw's... front. Crotch. Ahaha. There is no way he's going to win in this position, is there? Whining again, he squirms slightly, then goes completely still when he realizes that he's getting them even more tangled up. Aah. Not fun. 

And incredibly  _confusing,_ what is he even- why is he  _reacting_ like this, is he just- 

 

"What are you- oh.  _Oh._ I... sorry. Really sorry. I'd move, but... you're gonna end up falling in thorns if I do. A lot of thorns. So, uh..." Sharpclaw starts to say something, then gives a soft little hum of understanding as the wraith gives a confused little whimper. "You... don't really know what's going on, huh? It's alright, it's... kind of a confusing thing at first. D'you, uh... not really _know_  what's going on, or just not remember, or... okay, look. I can explain this, and probably even with a minimum of blushing, but... how  _much_ do you know?" the hybrid asks softly, sounding just a bit embarrassed. "You do... at least know what that's  _for,_ yeah?" 

 

Okay, he's not really sure he wants to discuss this while he's in this position, but- 

Ah, Hell, he really just wants to understand what's happening. So, he'll... he'll answer. Yes, of  _course_ he knows what that particular equipment is for, he's an adult and he's been around goblins and orcs who have no concept of modesty. Nodding slightly, he manages a chirp that doesn't sound completely embarrassed, then churrs very softly in an attempt to encourage Sharpclaw to continue. His embarrassment is currently being overridden by a burning need to understand what's going on with his own body, and he... mmh. He's incredibly embarrassed but he really needs to know what's happening to him and  _he does not like this._

 

"Okay then. Well, uh... see, thing is, that particular set of body parts has only one purpose, which is to make more of whatever species it happens to be attached to. And, uh... people's junk is  _dumb,_ honestly. No brains. No sense of social  _anything._ And sometimes people's junk kinda just goes 'Oh, hey, maybe babies?' and... yeah. It doesn't necessarily mean that the person attached to the, uh, equipment actually  _wants_ to do things... it just means that their junk is being stupid. Sometimes. I'm guessing that's what's going on here? I'm assuming you don't particularly want to..." trailing off, Sharpclaw glances away and clears its throat, then looks down at him. "So... junk being stupid?"  _  
_

 

Yes. And it is awkward, incredibly awkward, but... he understands now. And Sharpclaw isn't... isn't trying to suggest anything, is just... explaining. And blushing. Blushing a _lot_ , actually, or maybe his incredibly pale skin just makes it more visible. So that's... actually... good. This is not a good situation, but it could be far worse. He's done being in this position, though. He'd like to have options other than having his crotch wedged up against Sharpclaw's arm or being pressed up against- 

Well, he'd just really rather not be in this position. Whining softly to himself, the wraith slowly relaxes into Sharpclaw's hold, then gives a pleading little whimper and tries to coax the hybrid to maybe move this a bit faster. He's being stuck with thorns and he's in a very vulnerable and upsetting situation and  _he doesn't like this please make it stop._

 

 

"Okay... tell you what. I'm gonna get us both out of here. This cloak of yours is probably going to be a bit more tattered, and I apologize for that, but... it's either that or we stay here getting our skin all tattered." Sharpclaw declares, carefully tucking him a bit closer and bringing one hand up to shield his face, then just- falls over backwards, basically. It ends up sitting down outside the brambles, a bit shredded around the arms but not badly hurt- and they're both out of the thorns. "Ow. Yay. We're good. Now... c'mon, I don't wanna be anywhere near those and that slippery mud around them. I'm just gonna take us back to that sunny little glade, huh? Get a look at you, be sure you aren't hurt."  _  
_

 

Be sure  _he's_ not hurt? Yes, his feet are full of thorn pokes and do  _not_ feel nice, but... Sharpclaw kinda just fell through thorns, and- 

Twisting around, the wraith lightly touches Sharpclaw's upper arm, examining the bleeding rakes and trying to figure out if they're deep enough to be concerning. No, they don't seem to be, but... Sharpclaw's concern probably shouldn't be directed towards him. He's okay. Ish. Just slightly poked up and very embarrassed and apparently  _somewhat turned on._ He does not like this. He wants to slink away and curl up in a ball and hide and-

And he wants- 

He wants to- 

Oh. He... he doesn't want to... doesn't want to slink away and be alone. He wants to slink to somewhere warm and dark, yes, but... not some corner somewhere. He wants to slink under Sharpclaw's cloak and curl up and wrap his fingers into the hybrid's shirt and nuzzle in and  _where are these thoughts coming from-_ _  
_

HELP. Whining slightly, the wraith squirms away from Sharpclaw and limps a few feet away, out into the small clearing he'd been in before, then whines again and looks over his shoulder at Sharpclaw. He's embarrassed and he wants to run and hide and get away from anyone who'll try to  _look_ at him but he- he wants- he very much wants to crawl into Sharpclaw's lap and-  

And right now he doesn't want to actually  _do_ anything and he doesn't want to but he  _does_ and he wants to crawl into the hybrid's lap and just- 

He's  _pathetic,_ wanting to limp into the big strong half-goblin's arms and curl up and be safe and- 

He doesn't  _need_ to be- 

He doesn't need someone  _coddling_ him and picking him up and carrying him around and keeping him  _safe_ and-  _  
_

 

Sharpclaw pulls a thorn out of its leg, then walks somewhat gingerly over to the wagon and pulls out a few things. A blanket, a small leather pouch, and a jar of something that's tinted vaguely green. Still moving gingerly, it walks over to the edge of the clearing and sits down at the base of a tree, near the giant Warg cowering in the shrubbery. Sighing, it looks down at a thin greenish line wriggling through the grass, then picks the snake up between two fingers and looks at it. "Gor, this is just... this is a grass snake. It's not even venomous. It's just a little wriggle. See? Here, Spook, you want the snake? Kinda pretty." 

 

Uh, no. He doesn't want the snake. It's a small snake, and admittedly it's a bit of a nice one, it does have very shiny patterns, but he doesn't want it. No thanks. Shaking his head slightly, the wraith eyes Sharpclaw for a moment, then just... slinks into a bush. He doesn't want to go too far from his protection from goblins, but he wants to not be here right now. He needs to think.

More precisely, he needs to deal with his internal freakout about what he wants and what his body apparently wants and how much of a disconnect there might or might not be between those two things. 

GAH. 

 

"Shoo." Sharpclaw mutters, putting the snake down and poking at it until it flees, then sighs again when Gor whines pitifully. "Aw, I know... I know you don't mean to be afraid. It's okay, boy, I know snakes are scary. It's okay." it whispers, then rubs gently behind Gor's ears for a moment before spreading the blanket over most of its lap. "Can't sit out in the sun for long or I get burned." it mutters, positioning the blanket so that its legs aren't in the sun, then pulls back the edge of the blanket and nabs the base of a thorn with a pair of- uh- he forgot what they're called. Grabbers. 

Once the thorns are out of his legs (and there aren't many), it tucks the blanket back into place, then looks over at the wraith and offers a little smile. "Hey... wanna come over here? I know you're probably feeling a bit embarrassed- and believe me, I know the feeling, I dealt with that quite a few times when I was a teenager- but... I'm guessing you have thorns in you. If you come over here, you don't have to sit in my lap... not sure how comfortable you are with that. If you aren't, just sit next to me for a bit, okay? I'll get the thorns out quickly, I got a good pair of tweezers, and then you can... go sit in a bush. Or in the river. Or just... go tuck yourself into the cart, I suppose. Whatever you'd like. C'mon... it's alright. Or, uh... you can sit in that bush for awhile, if you want. I'm just gonna be over here getting air-dried." 

 

Sharpclaw is  _not helping_ his confusion and his stupid, stupid,  _foolish_ desires right now. He wants to go over there and curl up in Sharpclaw's lap and be comfortable and safe and warm but he  _shouldn't_ he doesn't  _need_ to be  _coddled_ but  _dammit_ he  _wants_ and- 

And who the Hell is going to know? There's no one around but him, Sharpclaw, and the Warg who is hiding in a bush. And Sharpclaw is giving him such a soft, friendly,  _inviting_ look, and it's not forcing, it's not ordering, it's just _asking_ if maybe he'd like to come over and let himself be  _helped_ and why is he not taking that offer? Why is he trying to  _hide_ from- 

Sharpclaw is looking at him with the kindest, gentlest look he's ever seen directed towards himself and he  _wants,_ wants so badly to just go over there and curl up and let himself be  _held_ and he can't remember wanting anything nonessential to  _life_ this  _much_ and he probably has a really big problem but- 

But he used to be a _Ringwraith_ and now he's _alive_ and his world is  _messed up_ and he is currently headed towards an unknown town in the company of the world's friendliest half-goblin and a Warg that's larger than most horses and he doesn't understand his own body and- 

What the HELL. He wants to go and curl up in Sharpclaw's lap, and no one is around to see, and he  _wants,_ and it's being  _offered_ without anything negative or bad or unpleasant and he just- he  _wants-_

Standing up in the most determined fashion he can manage, the wraith shakes the leaves off of his frame, then stalks over to Sharpclaw with the most confident posture he can manage. Giving a demanding little chirp, he gives Sharpclaw about half a second to move the tools out of the way, then firmly sits himself down in the hybrid's lap. It's mostly bravado, honestly, he's really still not sure about this- but it's either come over here and be confused but warm and un-poked, or sit in a bush being cold and full of thorns. 

Hopefully it's not too obvious. 

 

"I, uh... that kinda looked like bravado. You okay?" Sharpclaw whispers, then sighs when the wraith just gives a confused noise. "Ah... you're just kinda... not sure about things? That's okay, you can be unsure. Just try to relax a bit, think it over, and, uh... show me if you have any thorns in you." the hybrid orders, very softly, then gently takes his hand to examine his palm. "Here, let me see. Your hands okay? You get poked in the face?"

 

Yes, his hands are okay, and no he didn't get poked in the face. And this is comfortable and Sharpclaw is touching him nicely and the thorns are about to go away and okay this feels really damn good. Licking his lips in a nervous gesture, the wraith stares around the clearing for a moment, then slowly leans back against Sharpclaw's chest and... oh. Okay. The half-goblin is still kind of damp, and, um... 

Kinda smells... 

Good. 

...what does that mean? Does he want to... 

No. Not at all. Nothing that involves no pants. His body is being stupid and is disagreeing with him, but he... he doesn't want to...  _no._ He doesn't want to be  _touched_ like that, but he- 

He just wants to be held. And yes, it's pitiful, and it's pathetic, and it's a foolish little child's  _fantasy,_ but he  _wants_ this and it's being freely  _given_ and he- 

Whining in frustration, the wraith tries to just hide his face in Sharpclaw's shirt. He's forgotten something, though. Sharpclaw isn't wearing a shirt. So now he is nuzzling against soft, damp white skin that actually smells quite nice and he does  _not_ know what to do with this situation or the fact that all his senses are telling him that this is nice. 

So he's just going to sit here and enjoy it. Because Sharpclaw is far too nice and far too friendly and is making it so  _easy_ to get this and he doesn't  _understand_ why he wants this or even  _what_ he wants but it feels so very  _good_ and this isn't worth fighting. He gives up. He'll just... just enjoy. 

 

"Um." Sharpclaw makes an odd little noise, but doesn't try to push the wraith away. In fact, the hybrid doesn't object. The powerful hands tracing gently over the wraith's shivering frame pause for a moment, then it just carefully continues, gently removing the thorns stuck through soft grey skin. "Okay. You know what? Go ahead. As long as those claws aren't digging into my skin, I'm good with whatever keeps you comfortable." Sharpclaw whispers, then pauses to stroke two fingertips firmly down his spine, pausing a bit above his waist. "Easy. You're shaking, and I'm not sure what's up, but... you don't need to shake like this. You're fine. You're just fine. Well- know what? I'll be honest. I'm not sure how fine you are right now. You're still a bit underweight, you have some thorns in you, you're all scratched up, and apparently you have no idea what you want. But you know what? You're gonna be fine. Something fairly life-shattering obviously happened right before I found you, seeing as how you'd about forgotten to breathe, and look at this? You've gone from barely being able to be alive to this. Granted, you are not in wonderful shape, but you are going to figure this out and you are going to be just fine. You have no serious injuries, just some uncomfortable ones, and you'll get everything worked out after you have a bit more time to think. You're okay now, and you're going to be just fine later. Probably better than fine."

 

He... probably shouldn't be nuzzling into Sharpclaw's chest like this. But he really doesn't care right now because Sharpclaw is being reassuring and isn't trying to suggest anything. And, also... there is a firm hand rubbing gently along his backbone, and that feels... really good. Really, really good.  _More. Lots more._

Growling softly to himself, the wraith kneads his claws on Sharpclaw's arm for a moment in an effort to figure out where to get some purchase, then ends up fastening them around the larger man's wrist. He really needs somewhere to put his hands, and he needs something to dig his nails into, just a bit. Or maybe more than just a bit, because Sharpclaw is rubbing a bit harder now and has gotten his cloak out of the way and  _oh_ why are his toes curling? Slightly confused by that, he glances down at his feet, then shrugs just a bit and relaxes. Sharpclaw is still rubbing along his spine and making him feel nice, so odd reaction or not, he's going to keep enjoying himself. Maybe it's just a bit like whatever his hands are insisting that he should do, this... odd kneading gesture. 

His body is weird. That seems like a safe conclusion. His body is definitely weird. Is this... a thing that happens to other people? Do other people understand what their bodies are doing? Sharpclaw seems to have some idea, at least. 

Maybe he just needs some time to figure himself out. That... does make sense. It's worked so far. He just needs to spend some time... sitting here being very confused. 

Or,  _ooh,_ maybe he'll just-  _oh_ that's good. The wraith gives a purring little trill, then shifts his grip, arching his back slightly in order to better offer his spine to Sharpclaw. He is very much enjoying the sensation of Sharpclaw's fingertips rubbing firmly along either side of his backbone, and-  _oh._ Yes. Yesss. 

There's probably a bit of a dopey expression on his face right now. 

He just can't bring himself to care very much. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our wraith's brain engineers are kinda just going "HOW DO WE THIS" and fiddling around with the entire panel of buttons labeled "hormones". He's basically going through the whole adjustment procedure that's supposed to happen during puberty, but it's only just starting to happen, mostly because he's only just recovered from what was technically malnutrition. He only now has enough energy for hormones to start doing hormone things again. Which means there will probably be emotional swings and also some awkwardness. See the awkwardness up there? That kinda thing.  
> Also confusing thoughts because he only sorta knows what he's doing with this whole "being alive" thing and he has NO idea how to deal with the hormones. Or what to do with his own reactions. Basically, he's very confused by his own body, and he doesn't much like that. He does like the spine rubs, though. Those help the whole "flailing in an ocean of confusion while being circled by sharks* problem. 
> 
> And yes, Sharpclaw is now petting one of the most feared beings in Middle Earth like an oversized cat.   
> And Gor is still hiding in the bushes from a grass snake. For anyone wondering, the crippling fear of all non-legged reptiles is about the only reason why Gor isn't completely unstoppable. That and the fact that he's kinda flammable.


	11. Chapter 11

"There you go... I got all the thorns out while you were busy purring. See? You're fine." Sharpclaw whispers, then smiles, stroking a hand down his back one more time. "Hey... are you asleep?" the hybrid inquires, then reaches over and rubs gently between Gor's ears. "Look at this, Gor. He fell asleep in my lap, without being exhausted. I think he actually trusts me now. I mean, yeah, he was kinda nervous earlier... really can't blame him, though. That was not a nice situation. And I'm really starting to wonder how much he knows about, well, whatever he is. I mean... you ever seen anyone with less of an idea what they want?" 

Careful hands stroke along his spine a bit more, then Sharpclaw tugs his hood back just a bit, carefully checking to see if there are any thorns in his face. "I've really never seen anything like this. Looks a little bit like an elf, actually, but they don't have skin this color. Or gold eyes. Or  _fangs._ Look at him. He's actually sorta... heh. Sorta cute, especially asleep like this. Now, I'm sure most of this is from whatever curse was cast on him, but... that doesn't really clarify things. Think maybe it was something to do with memory loss, huh? Or, honestly, I still think he was turned into a cat. It'd explain a few things. Maybe he just doesn't remember being a cat, huh? D'you think he smells like a cat, Gor? Huh, Gor? Does he smell like a cat? Does he, boy?" 

Gor shoves its muzzle into his side and sniffs eagerly for a moment, evidently excited by Sharpclaw's tone, then backs up and whines enquiringly up at its master. Cat? No cat? 

"Not a cat, then? Alright. So... what d'you suppose he is, huh? Now... I do remember hearing something about how orcs used to be elves that the Dark Lord kinda just... really messed up. Maybe he's some new kind of orc? Or... I dunno, maybe he's an orc/elf hybrid. Is that even possible? How much difference is there between elves and orcs?" Sharpclaw asks softly, rubbing gently between Gor's ears. "What d'you think, fella? He smell a bit like an elf? Huh? You know what elves smell like? Or... what else could he be? I can't think of anything that naturally has charcoal-colored skin. Humans come in a lot of different colors, yeah, but the dark-skinned ones are more like really dark brown than dark grey. And he has these nice sharp teeth... look at them." the hybrid chuckles, lightly touching his cheek as he sleepily bares his fangs. "Oh, wait- hey, you waking up? No? Okay then. Probably shouldn't be talking about him like this if he's awake, but I think we're good here. He's still asleep, looks like... and I kinda like this. He's getting nice and warm now, see? And I... heh. He's... look at his hands. And he keeps  _nuzzling_ me, and- I probably shouldn't be this happy but oh my gosh look at him. He- he actually- I think he trusts me. That... that doesn't happen very often, does it? There aren't very many people who'll let me touch them, and... I really don't think anyone other than you would let me do  _this._ I mean, I'm kinda not wearing a shirt, and he's curled up asleep in my  _lap._ He just- he keeps nuzzling me. I... wow." 

 

He's awake. He's definitely awake, he's just- just pretending to be asleep, mostly in hopes of having  _this_ happen. He's been hoping that Sharpclaw will start talking (the hybrid likes to talk to Gor), and it's absolutely worked. But... but Sharpclaw isn't... isn't incriminating itself. In fact... Sharpclaw sounds so  _happy_ to have him doing this, to have him curled up like this. It sounds so happy to have his trust, and... and he _likes_ having the larger being sound this happy. It feels... good. 

Slowly opening his eyes, he blinks up at Sharpclaw for a moment, then raises one hand and rests it gently on the larger being's chest. It's... an attempt at thanks. Probably. He's honestly not sure, it just... seems like the right gesture to accompany how he's feeling. In the past couple of days, he's started to... recall things. He can't say that he remembers things, he really doesn't, he just... knows things. This feels like the right gesture to use, and he's fairly sure it's rooted in a memory somewhere, so he's just going to... hope this doesn't mean something that he's unaware of. 

 

"Oh... you've been awake, huh? I... kinda said a couple of things. I'm guessing you probably noticed me kinda-" Sharpclaw cuts off midsentence, clearly somewhat confused by the hand on its chest, then smiles and relaxes again. "...guess you aren't freaked out, then? Good. I, uh... I'm not some kind of creep, I promise. I just like, uh... well, I like contact. People don't always like me very much. I mean- there are some people who don't mind me, of course, but... like I said, people don't really let me touch them this much. So... I like this. And I don't see any reason why that wouldn't be okay, since... well, since you seem to like it. Right? I mean- do you want me to stop?" 

 

No. He's fine. Sitting up, the wraith chirps reassuringly to Sharpclaw, then glances hopefully over towards the wagon and trills softly. He's hungry. 

And, hmm... Gor is watching him with some sort of interest. Turning to the Warg, he raises his voice slightly and trills louder, though it's still the same noise. Did Gor understand? 

Apparently. Somewhat amused, he watches the Warg creep over to the wagon and retrieve a crate, then croons approvingly when it's set near his lap. Reaching up and patting Gor on the head, he gives a pleased little noise, then pries the crate open and happily takes a bite of the dried venison inside. Apparently the Warg now understands what that particular trill means... this could be useful. What else can he train it to do, hmm? 

 

"...he figured that out, huh? Cool. Good boy, Gor. Smart boy." Sharpclaw croons, affectionately ruffling Gor's ears, then chuckles softly at the sight of the wraith absolutely demolishing a fairly large chunk of dried meat. "You're feeling a bit more confident about eating, huh? And I'm glad you like that- I can make plenty more. Gor likes to bring me those big red deer, mostly because he's all proud of himself for catching something big and fast. Now... when you're all done eating, how about we hop back into the cart and get going? We're really close to that town now, we can go and stock up on supplies. Also, we can get you a couple of shirts so you don't end up with your skinny ribcage all frostbitten when it starts getting colder. Also so you can comfortably wear that armor of yours. Oh, and we should probably get you some gloves and socks so you can put those gauntlets and boots back on without stripping your skin off. I think I know someone I can trade a few good critter hides to and get you some clothes. Sound good?" 

 

He's been getting quite chilly lately, so yes. He'd like to not be walking around in pants and a cloak. Nodding slightly, the wraith chirps in affirmation, though it's a bit muffled due to the fact that his mouth is full of venison. His meal is fighting him, but he has sharp teeth and determination on his side.

Now... how does he feel about the idea of going into town? It's... still not something he'd particularly like to do. He'd just like to stay away from other people, please. But... he'd also rather not stay shirtless. He's getting cold. And he'd rather like to have some way to wear his armor without ending up with blisters in various places. He does NOT want to risk being recognized, but- but maybe he can give this a try? If the people in the town didn't much mind Sharpclaw and Gor, then... maybe they won't pay too much attention to him slinking around behind Sharpclaw. Or maybe he can just try to tuck himself up under Sharpclaw's cloak and hide. So- yes. He'll give it a try. Nodding slightly, the wraith gives a soft little noise of affirmation, already bracing himself slightly- Sharpclaw is probably going to dump him out of its lap. 

Much to his surprise, though, Sharpclaw doesn't just push him out. In fact, when the half-goblin stands up, it very gently picks him up as well. Giving a startled (and muffled) little noise, he grips onto Sharpclaw's arm, then relaxes and just lets himself be picked up and carried. Okay, he'll take this... he kinda likes it. Straightening his spine in the most regal manner he can manage, he points towards the cart in a demanding fashion, huffing in satisfaction when Sharpclaw chuckles and obliges. Good. 

 

 

A few hours later, though, he really starts regretting his cooperation. 

They've just arrived in a small town, thanks to Gor's speed, and... they're drawing a lot of attention. Not too surprising, but- but people are  _looking_ at him, and- and he- and he  _does_ not like it. There are people  _staring_ at him and- 

_Body stripped away every fiber of his existence exposed to a burning gaze that tears into his very soul, finding every shard of resistance and ripping it away and tearing away **who he is** until he can't fight can't run can't stop it can only curl up in the back of his own mind and just try to endure and even that is a struggle because it's been millennia and he can barely hold on even more and he's barely even aware of his world but then there's fire and terror and  **falling** and he can feel everything and it  **hurts** and he's suddenly alone for the first time in thousands of years and then he hits the ground and everything  **stops-**_

 

"Hey hey hey- shh. It's okay, it's okay- here, come here. It's okay. Listen to me, spook. You're okay. You're safe. Hey- can you hear me?" 

 

It takes him a few minutes to become aware of much. 

The first thing he's really aware of is Sharpclaw's voice. 

The second thing is a powerful hand rubbing ever-so-gently over his back. 

He doesn't want to open his eyes, but he does, mostly because he needs to see what's happening. He can't help a little hiss of alarm at how  _dark_ it is, but then he realizes that he's just under Sharpclaw's cloak. With his nails, once again, dug into Sharpclaw's chest. And this time he's biting the hybrid's arm, and  _why_ is he doing that? Giving an apologetic little sound, he lets go, then cringes into himself and looks up at Sharpclaw. Is he- is he in trouble? Did he make the hybrid angry by- 

Of  _course_ he did no one likes being  _bitten_ and he's probably just convinced anyone nearby that he's either feral or  _insane-_

 

"Hey, stop- stop looking like I'm about to hit you. I'm not. You just bit into my arm guard, I'm fine. What happened? Did you... did you just not like people looking at you? Or... bad day?" Sharpclaw whispers, still just very gently rubbing the trembling wraith's back. "Shh-shh-shh... you're okay. Look, you're all hidden under my cloak- no one can see you. You're fine. Try to stay here with me, okay? Eyes open." it croons, then very gently takes his hand, placing it on his chest. "Here. I need you to do something for me, okay? I need you to breathe with me. Do you think you can do that?" 

 

No. 

Maybe. 

Digging his nails slightly into Sharpclaw's chest, the Ringwraith forcibly stills his breathing, then inhales deliberately and does his best to steady his breathing a bit. He ends up having to lean on Sharpclaw to keep track of the larger being's breathing, but it- it doesn't do any harm. it helps a bit. And... and Sharpclaw is still gently rubbing his back, and it feels good, and- whining softly, he arches his back up against Sharpclaw's hand, trying to get more of the pressure.

 

"Good, there you go. That's it. And, ah- I get it. I'll press a bit harder, then. Let me know if this gets too rough for you." Sharpclaw whispers, pressing harder on either side of his spine and rubbing firmly, then pauses when he _m_ _oans._ "I, uh- I'll take that as a good sign, I guess?" it ventures, now blushing slightly. "Here, just... relax. And, like I said, let me know if this is too much- for any reason. I don't want to overwhelm you, hurt you, or, uh... anything else you aren't a fan of. But, if you like this, I can... keep doing it." 

 

Hell yes he likes it. His attempted noise of satisfaction came out a bit more _suggestive_ than he intended, but  _oh_ yes this feels good. And no one is looking at him or bothering him or even  _noticing_ him- 

Oh. 

He's okay. He's actually okay. There's no- no one looking, no  _flaming eye tearing into his soul scorching his very being apart-_

Aah- 

The wraith shudders all over as Sharpclaw's hands rub gently on either side of his neck, and most of the last bits of his former nightmare fade away at the onslaught of  _pleasure._ Giving a startled little mewl, he kneads his hands against Sharpclaw's chest for a moment, then stretches up and presses himself into the hybrid's hands in an effort to chase away the last few shreds of terror. Oh, this feels  _good-_ so good. So, so good. Yes. He- oh. He's enjoying this probably more than he should, but  _oh yes,_ he likes this. 

 

"Oh, you- you really like this, huh? Alright, just... enjoy yourself. Relax, y'hear? You're okay. And... let me know when you're feeling a bit better, okay? You feel kinda cold, it might be a good idea to get you some clothes soon. It's okay if you don't feel ready to go anywhere yet, I understand, but I'd like you to let me know when you do feel better. Deal?" Sharpclaw croons, then smiles at a little nod. "Good. Now... I'm just going to keep doing this. And, unless you want me to keep talking, I'm going to be quiet." 

 

He really, really doesn't want to let this stop. Closing his eyes, the wraith leans against Sharpclaw's chest and inhales deeply, trying to calm himself and- 

And, honestly? Partly for the scent. Sharpclaw smells... a bit nice. Also, the hybrid smells like  _safety._ Warmth and safety and comfort. This is... probably some sort of conditioning that has him drawing such a strong connection between this scent and safety. That's okay, though- it's not wrong. Sharpclaw is safe. Warm and gentle and safe. 

This is good. He's still jumpy, and he's a bit worried about whether or not that waking nightmare is going to come back, but... he's actually feeling... pretty good. Very warm. Safe, too. And,  _oh,_ Sharpclaw is making him feel very nice. 

Very slowly, the tension leaves his frame. His hands loosen on Sharpclaw's shirt, his spine relaxes, his eyes roll back, and he basically just melts. 

 

 

It takes him a very long time to decide that he's willing to get up. When he finally does, he just slowly opens his eyes, then leans back slightly and drowsily chirrups. Okay. He's feeling pretty good now, feeling a lot safer, and a quick inspection of the area shows him that no one is around. Slowly easing himself out of Sharpclaw's lap, he stands up and stretches, then trills gently up at the hybrid and tries to look confident. He's ready. Mostly. 

 

"You feeling better? Good. Alright, Gor, stay. Hear me, boy? Stay." Sharpclaw orders, then folds the side of the cart down, stepping out and then gently picking him up. "Here. Nobody's around. The path over there is stone slate, I'll set you down in a second, but I don't think you wanna be walking right over here." he whispers, cradling the wraith close as he walks, then gently sets him down on his feet. "There you go. Now... we are going to have to talk to a couple of people today. It's okay if you don't want to interact with them very much, and it's okay if you want to just stay close. It's perfectly fine. And I'm not going to tell you not to freak out again, because I know you didn't exactly try to do that. But... if you start getting nervous again, I need you to tell me. I might be able to help you stay here instead of getting dragged off into- whatever that was. Okay?" he whispers, then slowly holds out one hand, palm-up. "Just- take my hand if you feel your heartbeat speeding up, okay?" 

 

Okay. He can do that. Gently placing his hand on Sharpclaw's, he nods slightly, then lets go and straightens his back as much as he can in a gesture of determination.

He can do this. He survived four thousand years under Sauron's claw, and he was the terror of Middle Earth. Ringwraith or not, he is  _strong._ He will not be cowed by these fragile little humans looking at him. 

His bravado turns out to be... slightly unnecessary, though, because the building they walk into is less than intimidating. The walls are just about floor-to-ceiling softness, fabrics and hides and clothes and bright colors everywhere, and the only inhabitant of the room is an old lady who looks... about as unthreatening as it is possible for a human to look. 

Wait- where is Sharpclaw-

Oh, just- just getting something from the wagon. Okay. He can handle being away from Sharpclaw for ten seconds, there are hardly going to be goblins hiding under the clothing racks. And, hmm... silks. Not something he wants to wear, not practical at all, but... he's always liked the texture. Cautiously reaching out, he takes one of the silks between two fingers, just touching it- then flinches away when he sees the shop owner heading towards him.

Nope. 

 

When Sharpclaw walks back in, he sees the wraith edging slowly around the shop, nervous eyes locked on the shopkeeper, clearly trying to stay as far away from her as possible. "I, uh... hi, Mrs. Locke. Don't mind him, he's... a bit skittish. Easy, spook, she doesn't bite. Just- look around a bit, okay? See if you can find something you like." he coaxes, then walks over and sets a crate of salted hides near the counter. "Few boar, lots of rabbit, couple of gopher, and a few different deer. The red deer are mostly missing a leg or two apiece, Gor usually eats some before bringing the rest back, but they have a lot of material on 'em. Oh- and there are a few pheasants. I'm still not sure how Gor caught them, but I thought you might be able to use them. Mostly salted and dried. The ones on top are fresh and probably have good fur, the ones further down are probably shedding pretty heavily but should be just fine for anything you don't need the fur for. Pheasants should have all the feathers in place." 

 

Mrs. Locke makes a shooing motion in Sharpclaw's general direction as he starts to open the crate, moving away from the (clearly very uneasy) wraith and towards the half-goblin. "Don't open that in here, it'll smell up the place. Take it into the back- already smells back there. Your nervous friend can come on back if he wants, but he's gonna get salt on his feet." 

 

Sharpclaw glances over towards him, offering a reassuring little smile as he picks up the crate. "Tell you what, Spook. How about you stay out here? If someone comes in or you start getting nervous, you can come back here, but you might as well look around." he points out, slowly moving towards the back room, then speeds up just a bit when he sees that the wraith doesn't look too scared- just a bit apprehensive. Which, really, is entirely understandable. "I doubt there's anyone in town who'll give you any trouble, and especially not anyone who'll come in here." 

 

Okay. That... yes. He can do that. This does look like a safe place. Nodding slightly, the wraith gives a little noise of affirmation, then edges over to look at some gloves. He'd like his gauntlets back without them rubbing holes in his skin. 

 

"What are you?" 

 

Startled, the wraith jolts and yelps, bushing himself up slightly and whirling to face- oh. Well. 

This is a child. This is absolutely not a threat- this is a child. Albeit a child who is curiously close to him. Shouldn't it be... a bit disturbed? Maybe? 

And he doesn't really have a way to explain what he is, nor does he want to do so. Instead, he just cautiously eyes the child (boy or girl- he's not sure. Forgot how to tell with humans this young), then slowly edges away from it. He... doesn't want to be too close to this child. It's probably not dangerous, despite the slingshot hanging from its belt, but he doesn't want to have a parent potentially accuse him of threatening their child. He's not a threat. Has been, in the past- he's killed children. Usually quickly, but- 

High-pitched screams ringing through his brain, the wraith slinks away from the child and tries to make it very clear that he doesn't want to talk, though he doesn't hiss- that could be taken as a threat. Instead, he just gives an unhappy little sound, edging over behind a rack of coats.  _Please go away._

 

Much to his dismay, though, the child follows him. And there are more questions.

"Are you a Barrow-Wight? My mama says Barrow-Wights are like dark skinny men in old cloaks, but they live in creepy foggy places and she says they never come to town. She says they can't get me if I stay here. So maybe you aren't a Barrow-Wight... what else are you? Are you a weird goblin? Or- or maybe a baby cave troll? I don't know what cave trolls look like. Or what you look like- come over here!" 

 

No. 

Hissing unhappily, the wraith edges away from the advancing child, then hisses and bolts- 

And runs right into a human. Bouncing off, he takes a moment to regain himself, then tenses up and bares his fangs nervously up at the man. It's not a voluntary gesture, but it's taken as one, and- 

A hand clamps around his throat and the wraith  _whines_ in panic, nails digging into the man's arm in an effort to make him  _let go._

 

"I don't know what you are, but you need to stay  _away_ from my boy." the man growls, lifting him onto his tiptoes, then lets go and shoves him towards the back room. "Git." 

 

_Yes sir._

Rather thoroughly cowed by the clear threat from someone much stronger than him, the Ringwraith slinks off into the back room, straightening his spine a bit and trying not to look too cowed. It doesn't really work, he just ends up looking incredibly tense. He does relax a bit once he gets into an area without any threatening people, but he promptly tenses right back up again and  _snarls_ in pain as the barely-healed blisters on his feet encounter salt on the floor. Limping slightly, he steps around the worst of it, then slinks over to Sharpclaw and whines up at the hybrid. Ow. This isn't fun and he would like to be picked up, please. 

 

"What? Oh. I see." Sharpclaw whispers, then gently picks him up, carefully holding him in one arm and reaching down to brush the salt off of his feet. "Here, I gotcha." he mutters, then glances over at the woman now eyeing them with a rather amused look. "He got some really nasty blisters awhile back- salt must hurt, they're barely healed at all." he explains, then smiles softly when he feels the wraith relax. "There, better?" 

 

Better. 

Relaxing, he leans against Sharpclaw and just tucks his feet up a bit, then somewhat cautiously eyes Mrs. Locke. He's not sure what she's going to think of this relationship (nor is he entirely sure what this relationship  _is_ ), and... some people can be very touchy about certain things. She doesn't seem to mind, though, in fact she's smiling a tiny bit as she continues inspecting the hides. 

 

Dusting the salt off her hands, Mrs. Locke looks the hides over for a moment more, then nods slightly and looks up at Sharpclaw. "I can use these. Get your friend to look around a bit- we'll settle up once he decides what he'd like." she declares, then smiles very softly and steps just a bit closer, now looking up at the wraith. "You look nervous. I have a few good hidden sheaths for knives... you want to see?" she coaxes, then pulls a swinging rack down to her level via a thin rope. "New batch, just done. Most of them are for women, but there's no reason they won't fit you. This batch is for strapping to someone's inner thigh, but that won' work so well if you aren't wearing a skirt. These can fasten to the inside of your upper arm, or these fit against the inside of your waistband so you can keep a knife in a normal spot but have it hidden a bit better. Or- these are ankle sheaths. Anything you want?" the old woman asks softly, then offers him one of the sheaths when he looks a bit reluctant. "Take a look. I'm not about to yell at you for touching." 

 

Still a bit cautious, he slowly accepts the knife sheath, turning it over and lightly testing the leather. Good quality, newly tanned, durable- good. Should attach firmly to any belt, inside or outside, and- thin enough to fit comfortably under clothing. Undecorated, probably just too new for that, but that's no problem. Yes, he... he likes this. Nodding slightly, he lightly pats the sheath in a gesture of approval, and he doesn't hand it back- he'd like to get it, if possible. 

Wait wait wait- Sharpclaw is walking back towards the outer room and that angry human is still somewhere out there and he does not like this idea- aaand here's the child. 

 

"What are you?

Fortunately, Sharpclaw doesn't seem perturbed, and he seems willing to answer the kid's questions. "I'm a half-goblin." 

"Why are you so big?" 

"My mom fed me a lot when I was little." 

"Why are you white?" 

"I'm albino." 

"What does that mean?" 

"It means that all of me is white, except my eyes, and they're red. I don't have any other skin or hair or eye color." 

"How did that happen?" 

"I really don't know. It just happens now and then, to a lot of different animals." 

"What's he?" 

"I have no idea." 

"Why are you carrying him?" 

"His feet are sore." 

"Why?" 

"He had a lot of blisters and they aren't healed yet." 

"Why?" 

"Because he wore a pair of metal boots without anything under them and then walked for a long time." 

"Why?" 

"I don't know." 

"Why not?" 

"He doesn't talk. I don't think he can." 

"Why did he hiss at me earlier?" 

"Were you following him?" 

"Yeah." 

"Maybe you creeped him out a bit. He's a bit nervous about people, and he might not have known what to do with you. Or he might have just been trying to get you to stop following him." 

"Why does he not like people?" 

"I'm not sure." 

"Why does he let you carry him if he doesn't like people?" 

"I think he likes me." 

"Why?" 

"I'm... not entirely sure, truthfully." 

 

He tunes them out at that point, instead taking advantage of his boosted height to get a good look around. After a moment, he wriggles until he's set down, then creeps over to a rack of coats and picks one up. Hmm. 

 

When Sharpclaw turns around, he's greeted by the sight of the wraith wearing a coat with fluff around the edges. "Oh, hey- you find something you like? Looks soft." he whispers, then smiles softly, gently taking the edge of the sleeve and inspecting it. "Nice and thick, too." he remarks, looking like he wants to say something else, then just goes quiet for a moment and awkwardly glances away. "Uh... looks good on you, too, though I'm guessing that... might not be one of your concerns. Uh- here. I'll put that on the counter, okay? You look around a bit more. Try to find a few shirts, and maybe some pants that don't look like you've just walked across the world in 'em. And, uh... might want to find some new undershorts." 

 

...that might be a good plan. 

Still keeping an eye on the child (whose father is fortunately nowhere to be seen), he slinks around the store for awhile, gradually picking out a few things that he likes. He's definitely gravitating towards black clothing, probably because it's familiar and will allow him to hide in shadows fairly well, but he's also picked out a few dark green items. He's eyed a new cloak, but... no. His is tattered and should probably be washed a couple of times, but he wants to keep it. It's  _his._ He's going to keep it. 

He's starting to get a bit concerned about something, though. He's... racking up a bit of a debt, it seems. And he can't help but remember a lesson that he's seen a lot of people learn; nothing in life is free. Sharpclaw is very generous, yes, but- but he's- 

Suddenly quite apprehensive, the wraith slinks over to a corner and just stands there, nervously eyeing the entire room and trying to keep his heartbeat low. He- he's scared of- of a lot of things, it seems. He doesn't know what to do with his world or with Sharpclaw's attention, he doesn't know if he's safe, he doesn't know what to expect from Sharpclaw, and- and he's- 

He is terrified but he doesn't know  _what_ he's terrified of aside from the absolute uncertainty, and he- 

There goes his heartrate again.

 

"Hey. Are you... you okay?" Sharpclaw ventures, then blinks and twitches slightly when the wraith grabs his hand. "Oh- I get it. It's okay... c'mon, let's just take a moment." he whispers, sitting down and very gently taking both of the wraith's hands. "Now... I need you to do something for me. Keep your eyes open, look at me, and breathe. Just focus on that, alright? You don't need to try to control your breathing right now, just be aware of it. You got it? Good... now see if you can slow your breathing down a little bit. It's okay, I promise... everything's okay. You're safe." he croons, then pauses, evidently considering something. "Hey, can you... do you think you could write out what's wrong, if I got you some paper and a quill? You don't have to, but if I knew what was wrong, it'd be a bit easier for me to help you relax. Do you think you can tell me?" 

 

He... he can read, so logic dictates that he can probably write. It'll probably be very clumsy, though, he hasn't written anything in an incredibly long time. And... he... he doesn't want to admit that he can because if he does then Sharpclaw is going to ask what he is and where he's from and he can't say because  _if Sharpclaw finds out what he is then he's probably going to get his neck broken or he'll be thrown into a pit and left to rot or tied to a tree somewhere for goblins to toy with-_

_No no no no-_

He doesn't realize it, but he's leaned forwards slightly in a protective curl and is digging his nails into Sharpclaw's hands, fangs bared, whining softly in distress. No no no  _please-_

 

"Hey, hey, easy. It's okay if you don't want to answer... I promise. It's okay. You don't have to tell me." Sharpclaw croons, his voice soft and steady despite the growing concern in his eyes. "Shh... it's okay." 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starts in Sharpclaw's POV again, mostly so we can see what he's thinking.  
> Warning for self-harm in this chapter. Also not a good mindset. Lots of guilt. Some symptoms of complex PTSD. Turns out that being the helpless puppet of an evil overlord for a few thousand years is really just not good for you. There's also some fairly severe self-loathing. Things are going to be a bit dark for at least the next couple of chapters.

"Hey, hey... shh." 

_Oh dear... what happened to you? What- what has you so upset at the idea of telling me about it?_

Very gently pulling the (still far too slender) being close, Sharpclaw hums soothingly to his frightened companion, very gently rubbing a hand in circles on his upper back and trying to discreetly look him over for any scars or wounds that could explain this. The hood is down, but no new scars are showing... not that he can see, at least. Nothing around his throat that could indicate a collar once being there... in fact, no marks anywhere. No scars. Just pointed ears and soft skin and long raven-black hair that Sharpclaw would actually rather like to run his fingers through. 

...where did that thought come from? Okay, no, forget the thoughts and just focus on steering away the incoming panic attack. "Really, it's alright... you don't have to tell me. Now... tell you what. I do need to know what upsets you, so... if it's something in here, could you just point to it?" he coaxes, resisting the urge to coax the slender being to look up at him. No- probably best not to touch his lower jaw at all, too close to his throat. 

 

The wraith (that seems like maybe the right word) looks up at him with brilliant golden eyes, giving an upset little whine, then just clamps both hands to the sides of his head and whines again. Apparently it's... not so much something in here as his own thoughts. 

 

"Just... overthought something a bit, huh? It's alright, don't worry about it. Just sit still and- here, how about we try to plan where we're going next? I gotta go talk to the blacksmith, and I have a few things I can trade to him if you happen to see something you'd like. You need a weapon other than those gauntlet claws. Maybe a couple of daggers? Sound good?" Sharpclaw whispers, then smiles when his companion nods slightly. "Alright, we'll definitely stop by there. And then... I know you probably won't like this idea very much, but there's a pub I'd like to stop by. They have some really delicious drinks, plenty of nonalcoholic things if that's what you'd like, and it's a great place to ask about how things are going in the area. You don't need to be around anyone, don't worry, they have a few curtained-off areas where you can sit without being seen. So... tasty drinks, you get to watch people without being seen, and we can learn what's in the area. Sound good?" he offers, keeping his voice very soft and hoping that he can make this offer seem nice. 

Judging by that expression, though, his offer does not sound good to his companion. "No? Okay, we can do without the bar trip. Now... I've gotten everything settled up, how about we get you into some far less shredded clothes? And- I got some loose fabric we can use to patch your cloak up, since you're keeping it. C'mon- up?" he croons, carefully standing up with both of the wraith's hands in his, then smiles softly when his companion stands up. "There we go. Now... that little side room is for changing. Go on- go get into something nice and clean. Always feels kinda nice... might cheer you up." he remarks, then glances around for a moment. "Doesn't seem to be anyone else around, and I'll stand over here by the door and make sure no one comes in. Okay?" 

Once the wraith slinks off (he does a lot of slinking- doesn't want to be seen, apparently), Sharpclaw takes up a position in front of the door, waiting for a few minutes until the door opens again. 

 

When he slowly opens the door, the wraith is no longer wearing his cloak. He's wearing a dark green tunic with a hood, and the hood isn't quite deep enough to hide his face, so the shy look in his eyes is visible as he steps a bit further out. The tunic is trimmed with dark brown, the pants are black and look very soft, and he's wearing a pair of dark, soft-soled leather boots that make no sound on the floor. When he nervously glances up at Sharpclaw, his eyes glint brightly from under his hood, and the shy look is... cute. Actually quite cute. He's clearly searching for approval, and... 

 

And oh no, it's adorable. 

Resisting the urge to coo and scoop the wraith into his arms (cute or not, that is a very bad plan), Sharpclaw discards the first few comments that come to mind - _don't call him adorable don't call him adorable don't call him adorable he'll probably freak out-_ and just goes with something that... skirts around his real opinion slightly. "You look great. Feel any better?" he ventures, then smiles when the wraith nods just a fraction. "Good... that's good. Here- give me your cloak, alright? Probably shouldn't put it on right now, but we can give it a good wash, I can patch up those tears, and then you can wear it without looking like you've just fought a thornbush." 

_There, good, that sounded normal. Now just keep doing that. And resist the urge to straighten his collar you are not your mother and he does not need you messing with his clothes._

_Why does he look startled?_

_Is he surprised that I said he looks nice? Oh no that's even cuter. No, no, don't- don't pick him up, don't hug him, don't- no, just- just leave him alone. Be gentle. Don't scare him._

Accepting the cloak from his companion, Sharpclaw gently offers a hand, trying to go with the most innocent contact point he can think of. "Come on- let's go get you a couple of weapons, yeah? Then you can stab goblins if they try to get you." he chuckles, then offers a wry little smile at a raised eyebrow from the wraith. "Hey, I know goblins tend to be kinda not-so-great. I'm not stupid." he sighs, then picks up the mostly-empty crate of hides and heads towards the door. And, much to his delight, there's a delicate hand wrapped around his as he walks. 

After quickly dropping everything off in the wagon and reinforcing the "stay" order (just to be sure Gor won't just run off and leave the cart- that's normally okay, but not around other people), he very gently guides the nervous wraith over to the blacksmith's shop, subtly humming gently to the trembling being every time someone looks their way. "Now- these guys might look at you a bit odd, but try to stay calm, okay? They aren't gonna hurt you, they'll just... mutter. It's okay, Spook, it's safe here. I promise. Now- might wanna close your eyes for a second, it's really hot and dry in here." 

 

 

Meanwhile, Gor pants happily down at everyone who passes, tail waving happily as he watches the world. After awhile, though, the happy look starts to fade a bit. Scared people. Why scared people? Scared of- of him? He's sorry. Lowering his head slightly, the Warg tentatively taps his tail at the next group of passersby, then blinks and tilted his head when he sees a dog. Dog has same fur, tail, paws. People like dog, don't like him. Why? Difference? 

Wait. Dog small. Gor blinks, considering the dog for a moment, then carefully hunches himself into the smallest ball he can manage. It's not very small, of course, but he's plainly trying his best. Maybe friendly people now? Yes? Friendly people!

No? 

No friendly people? 

Gor whines very softly, tail thumping softly against the ground, then sighs and just hunches up against the wagon. No friendly people. Scared people.

He's sorry. He's sorry for scaring the people. He's very sorry.

Wait- pup? Pup making happy sounds? 

Yay, friendly happy people pup! Tail waving happily, Gor bumps his nose into the small pup's chest, then whurfs and licks pretty much the entire child. Tiny friendly pup! Yay! 

 

 

_Oh no._

_Oh no he's adorable._

_He's absolutely precious._

_Oh nooo I can't just not-_

Sharpclaw forcibly reins in the urge to pick the wraith up and hug him, instead trying to direct his attention away from the absolutely fascinated expression on his companion's face. Those bright golden eyes are fixed on a pair of equally golden fish, and no wonder- the fish are plainly mechanical. They're swirling in circles around each other, fluid as any real fish, but gears and hinges hold them together and their scales are forged from gold. And oh nooo  _he's so fascinated and it's so CUTE look at his EYES-_

 

And then the former Ringwraith does a very good impression of a startled cat. Apparently he objects to a dwarf suddenly appearing next to him. Most people do, but they don't typically respond by hissing and leaping into the air and then somehow landing bushed out. The wraith doesn't calm down, either- he stays bushed up and glaring. It looks like a terrified glare, though, poor thing is probably scared. Some dwarves are really just not fond of anything unusual. 

 

"Hey, hey... don't worry, it's okay. They aren't going to hurt you. They're fine with odd people... otherwise I wouldn't be in here, would I?" Sharpclaw chuckles, doing his best to be soothing. "They're friendly. You can stay over there if you want, though... it's alright. Just look around for a weapon that might work for you, hey? There's some really nice daggers over there." he points out, then pulls a small bag of gold out of a pocket, tossing it lightly in one hand. "I'm just gonna trade for stuff. I need a new axe haft. I was stubborn and broke mine trying to pry open a door that I was not informed was dwarf-made." 

Once he's reasonably certain that the wraith isn't about to panic (or, okay, just- isn't about to do anything other than stand in the corner looking wideyed and worried), Sharpclaw hefts a very large battleaxe over one shoulder, ducking under a ceiling beam and heading towards the back room. It's quite small in here- the front room is the show area, it's built the same height as most buildings- but the storage area is only dwarf-height. Fortunately, there's a door (barely large enough for Sharpclaw) leading into an outer area, and his goal is through that door. 

 

 

He doesn't like this. 

He doesn't much like dwarves, for one thing. They don't tend to be terribly friendly to anything outside of what they usually encounter, and they're... quite dangerous. 

Also, he... can't help but remember what he did. He tries to distract himself, he really does, but... inspecting weapons may not be the best method. He just- just keeps imagining blood dripping off of the knives. Blood dripping down the blades and off the tips and  _screams_ and smoke coiling into the sky from burned houses and orcs tearing apart town after town under  _his_ command, and after awhile of phantom screams ringing in his ears all he can imagine is his own blood staining those blades. 

He hurt people. A lot of people. He badly hurt a lot of people and he needs to pay and he needs to  _hurt_ and he should probably think this over but all he can hear is screaming as he reaches for the nearest blade- and then fire slices through his palm and the screaming stops. It hurts, of course it hurts, and he lets go fairly quickly so the blade can't cut too deep, but then he curls his hand to hide the cut and stop the bleeding and when he looks back up the only blood he sees is his own- and it's only on one of the knives. That's real, he knows that much. The rest of the blood is gone and he can't hear the screaming any more and this is a lot better now. He'll take the stinging pain over the guilt. 

And, now that he's able to focus, he can go back to selecting a possible weapon. He should... probably take the slightly bloody dagger and pretend he accidentally cut himself. It's a good dagger, anyway, and the balance is right in his palm. Hmm, he can... ah, perfect. He can pair this with a slightly smaller dagger, fit the smaller one into the hidden sheath, and reserve the larger ones for situations involving battles. 

Or for making the screams go away again. 

That might have to happen. 

Or maybe he'll just watch the eerily realistic metal fish and try not to think about _blood staining the ground and agonized cries_ aaand time to start digging his nails into his palm again before that goes any further.

 

It doesn't work, though. 

He can't keep his mind away from the screams. It helps a little bit when Sharpclaw finishes whatever he was up to (something about a new haft for a very large battleaxe) and trades for the daggers and they can leave, but... he can't look around because he can't help but think about- 

He jumps into the wagon at the first opportunity, curling into a tiny ball and yanking a blanket up over himself. No. This is bad. He- he needs to make this stop. Needs to figure out how to make the screams go away, except- except that he already knows how to stop it and it's  _simple_ he can do this he just has to not- not let Sharpclaw see. There's no way he can explain what he's doing- mostly because his voice is still very uncooperative, he really doesn't want to try writing (means he'd be open to other questions that he CANNOT answer), and he can't communicate "I am slicing myself open because it makes the screams in my head go away" with various gestures. 

...well. When he thinks of it that way, it sounds... a little bit insane. 

He doesn't really care that much, though. He just wants this to stop. Now... how can he do this without ending up staining anything with blood? He should probably try to be sneaky. And he should definitely try not to get blood on anything... he likes these clothes. Ah- here are some spare rags. This... will work. Checking to be sure that the blanket is completely around him (it is), the wraith nudges the waistband of his pants down, then slowly drags his knife across his hip. It hurts. Especially when he presses the rag hard over it to keep the blood from getting on anything. But he'll take the pain, because it lessens the screams and it keeps him here and he- 

Eventually, the screams stop. The skin over his hipbone is a bit shredded, but he can _think_ and he's not in any mental pain and the guilt is mostly gone and he's feeling a bit better and he- hm. He seems to have drawn blood from his lip in an attempt to keep himself silent. 

He'd forgotten what blood tastes like. It tastes very interesting. And also maybe a little bit... good. 

That's weird. That's very weird. He should probably be concerned. 

Or maybe he'll just press the cloth tighter over his hip, secure it firmly in place with the waistband of his pants, and pretend that didn't happen. Sharpclaw would probably not respond well. And he wants to keep his knives- he needs them for protection. And apparently for injuring himself. 

Well, it's not like he's severely injuring himself. They're just little cuts. He's okay. Ish. Just a bit of blood. 

He's okay. 

Probably. 

 

 

No, apparently he is not okay. 

He needs to get out of this area because something about it is just- it's the same town over and over in his memories and the same screams and the same horrified faces and the same  _bodies_ and oh  _no_ he knows why this is happening and where he is and what he  _did_ and he's  _killed_ here- 

He's a  _murderer_ and he needs to  _pay_ and he's a bit low on room on this one spot by now (needs to have  _some_ skin left so it'll heal, suicide by infection is not one of his priorities yet) so he ends up switching to his other hip to make the screams  _stop._ It doesn't entirely work. He should probably stop this, and  _Hell_ he wants to stop this, it  _hurts,_ but it's either this or listen to the screams and he doesn't  _deserve_ to be  _allowed_ to stop because he is a  _murderer_ and he doesn't  _deserve_ to feel good at all he deserves to  _suffer-_

And then the knife hits something sensitive and he can't choke back a whimper of pain and  _oh no_ Sharpclaw probably noticed. 

 

Sharpclaw does, in fact, notice. He's expecting that maybe his companion has jarred a sore spot, but he moves the blanket anyway, just to be sure- then jerks back in surprise at what he finds. Backing up slightly, he just stares at the wraith for a moment, then licks his lips and slowly holds a hand out. "Hey... give me the knife, okay? G-give me the knife, come on... 's okay." 

 

Uh oh. 

He's probably in trouble. 

Drawing back in a gesture of extreme unease, he eyes Sharpclaw for a moment, then very slowly holds the knife out, handle first. He doesn't want to give it up, he wants to keep his weapon and his method of stopping the  _screams_ but he can't just say no to Sharpclaw he's already in a  _lot_ of trouble and he needs to cooperate. 

Sharpclaw doesn't look angry, though, he looks... well, he isn't certain what name to assign to that expression, but it's... something like pity. Maybe. And there's... hurt, too. Sharpclaw is clearly upset by this. And oh  _no_ he is very much regretting his choice of spots now because  _Sharpclaw is going to want to bandage this up_ and that means someone is going to be touching- 

The wraith hunches back against the edge of the wagon and hisses softly, very softly, scared and hurting and trying to make Sharpclaw  _go away_ because he doesn't  _deserve_ the comfort and he doesn't- doesn't want- he doesn't want to have Sharpclaw touching anywhere near his hips because that's how people get  _ideas_ and they will  _not_ be doing  _that_ and not just because the half-goblin would probably end up insisting on topping and he is  _not_ doing that with someone twice his size and probably five times as strong as him-  _NO._ And there are other reasons but mostly just because he likes being able to walk without screaming in pain, thank you. 

 

Sharpclaw carefully puts the knife away in a crate right next to his seat, then slowly edges closer to the wraith, holding out a hand and looking very concerned. "Hey... what were you up to?" he whispers, looking like he really has no idea what to do with this. "Are- are you... okay, I know you won't like this, but you're actually bleeding kinda badly. I'm not going to hurt you or anything, but I do... kinda have to get that cleaned up, okay? Come on, just... let me get a bit closer, okay? I'm not going to hurt you, I'm not going to do anything to you, I'm... just going to help you." 

 

No. He doesn't want Sharpclaw's help. He's covered the wounds with a couple of cloths, he's okay, he isn't in any danger of bleeding out or anything. He doesn't need bandages. Doesn't need to be touched. No. Leaning back a bit further, the wraith hisses up at Sharpclaw, then  _whimpers_ when he's touched. He- no- he doesn't want- he's- he's  _scared._ No. Please. He- he doesn't want- Sharpclaw is- 

Whining in alarm and struggling as much as possible, he does his best to claw his way out of Sharpclaw's grip, but it really doesn't work. Mostly because Sharpclaw's response is to just nuzzle into his front in order to prevent his nails digging into anything other than the hybrid's back. And haha he's very much not sure what he thinks of that because his companion is now breathing against his chest and it actually feels a little bit good and he's  _really_ not sure what to make of that. He's- he's a bit- warm. And this is- aha- nooo. 

 

"You done?" Sharpclaw asks, his voice muffled against the wraith's narrow chest, then leans back slightly when the scratching stops. "Okay, good. Now... you try to relax, okay? I-I'm really- I'm not going to hurt you. You've... already done more than enough of that. What are you even trying to do, anyway? This... isn't going to help you with anything. Seriously, though... what happened? Why were you doing this?" he asks, slowly lifting the edge of his shirt and trying to get a good look at the damage he's done. "Ooh, ouch. Doesn't look too deep, but... yeah, we're gonna have to do something about this. And... I'll be honest. I don't trust you to do that yourself right now. Wedging a rag over each hip is not proper wound treatment, okay? I'm just... going to nudge your waistband down, just a little bit. And, I'm sorry, but... this isn't really negotiable." 

 

Nonono please- 

Whining softly in fear as he's turned around and held in Sharpclaw's lap, the wraith struggles against the half-goblin's grip for a moment, then goes still and just whimpers up at him. He doesn't like this. He really doesn't like this. He hurts and he really doesn't want- 

Oh, wait. Sharpclaw is... oh. Sharpclaw is very gently rubbing his stomach with one hand and it actually feels really good and he's not sure how he feels about this but then- and then Sharpclaw tugs his waistband down a bit further and he just gets even more confused. He should really be despising this but he likes the hand on his stomach and okay that heat isn't going away and he- he is  _scared._

 

"Shh... I'm sorry, I know this isn't fun, but- well, your hips are a little bit shredded. Hey, is there... any way I can help you relax a bit? Do you... want me to keep my hand on your stomach, maybe? I can do that. Or... is there anything else? May I should... uh... yeah, I got nothin'. I'm sorry, I... don't really know how to make this better. I know this sucks, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm scaring you, I'm sorry I had to take your dagger away, and I'm sorry for whatever made you decide to start shredding your own hips open. I'm really sorry. If there's any way for me to help you with that, please tell me, but... if not, I'm gonna have to just go with this. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, but... you're starting to bleed through these rags. I think you hit an artery. Not a big one, but still." Sharpclaw sighs, then hums soothingly when the wraith in his lap shudders. "Easy, easy... I won't hurt you. Look down, okay? I've nudged your pants down a bit, I know, but nothing's showing. Just your hip bones. You're okay." 

 

No. He's really not. But, ah... Sharpclaw does have a point. He'd really rather have his pants pulled up further, but he's not showing anything _too_ important. This is just unnerving, not... intimate. He doesn't like it, but it is not yet a cause for panic. He'll just sit here and shiver and hope that maybe if he obeys then Sharpclaw will give him the knife back. He can just- just be sneakier. Biting his (bleeding) lip, he hunches into himself slightly more and just trembles, closing his eyes and hoping this will be over soon.  _Please just finish and leave me alone._

He doesn't stop shivering the entire time Sharpclaw is working. The second he's given permission, he yanks his pants back up and curls into himself, trying to hide from Sharpclaw. 

 

"Okay... I've got a good thick pad of bandages on each hip, and that wrapping should keep them in place. You're okay for now, but... you need to not do that again. Okay? You need to stop. I don't know what made you want to do that, but you need to come to me when it starts getting bad again. I... might be able to do something about it, huh? Something that doesn't involve cutting you open." Sharpclaw sighs, gently letting go of him and letting him scoot away. "I'm... not going to get mad at you if you come to me, okay? In fact, I'll be happy- it's way better than you doing this to yourself." he whispers, then looks up, surveying the area for a moment. Gor has kept walking so far, and... hmm. This area actually looks pretty good. "Hey- this looks like a pretty good spot. Gor... isn't always clear on the difference between cattle and buffalo, so I don't think I'll send him out hunting. I'll let him rest and set some traps instead. Whoa, Gor, let's take a break." he calls, reaching over and tapping on the side of the cart, then turns his attention back to the wraith in front of him. "Now... you are gonna sit with Gor. He'll keep an eye on you. I'm going to set some traps, and then I'll come back and we can... discuss this a bit more. And I really do mean discuss, I'm not going to hurt you, I just... want to find out why you did this." the hybrid sighs, then gets out of the cart and walks over to Gor, un-hitching the massive Warg and patting his shoulder. "Gor, down. Watch. Spook- come over here." 

 

No. He doesn't want to, he really doesn't, he's scared and ashamed and in pain and the screams are coming back and he doesn't want to  _stop_ he wants to  _run_ and get  _away_ from here and he- he still doesn't feel good but he goes anyway because he can't risk upsetting Sharpclaw. Shivering, he slinks out of the cart and over to Gor, pausing to stare up at Sharpclaw for a moment in an attempt at- he's really not sure. Both an apology and a plea to not be here. After a moment, he slowly sits down next to Gor, then cautiously leans on the Warg to see if it might be comfortable. Yes it is, and Gor gives him a very happy look at the attention. He'll stay like this. 

But not for long. Just about as soon as Sharpclaw is gone, there are flames burning behind his eyes again, cries of agony ringing through his head once more. Slowly standing up, he eyes Gor for a moment, then edges over towards the cart when the Warg doesn't protest. He's not about to get his knife back, Sharpclaw will probably notice, he's just... looking for some rags. And once he finds them, his next spot is a bramble patch at the edge of the clearing. Plucking the thinner brambles loose is a bit difficult without a knife and he ends up scratching his hands, but that's fine. Helps a little bit. 

Once he's gotten a few of the brambles loose, he rolls up one sleeve and wraps one tightly around his arm, hissing slightly at the sting of thorns biting into his skin. It definitely helps, it does- and so he wraps it again, then again, until the thorns are spiraled all down his arm. It stings, but every time he moves his arm and the thorns pull, the screams start to ebb. 

He's still quite thin, so when he wraps the cloths around his arm and then pulls the sleeve down, it hides the cloth-covered brambles quite well. This way he can flex his arm or press down on it to make it hurt, and- not only can no one see, he's not bleeding because the thorns stay in the cuts they make and prevent blood loss. He's okay. They aren't deep cuts, they're just little pokes. He's fine. He's okay. He's going to be okay. 

 

 

Or maybe he's not going to be okay. 

The thorns on one arm work for awhile. Until he tries to sleep. He curls up near the fire and near Gor (the Warg is surprisingly careful around him and is very warm and rather soft), and it's very comfortable and nice aside from the pain in his arm, but... every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is blood.

And then he does manage to fall asleep, and within a few minutes he snaps awake with a child's cry of agony ringing in his ears. Whimpering softly, he leans against Gor for a moment, then stands up and heads directly into the forest. Sharpclaw is sleeping over next to the wagon, sound asleep and evidently trusting Gor to keep watch, but... Gor doesn't stop the wraith from quietly wrapping another bramble around his other arm and then a particularly long one and some bandages around his midsection. He needs to  _sleep_ but more than that he needs the screams to  _stop_ and that only happens when he makes himself  _pay_ but clearly he hasn't done enough so far because he can still hear them and he can't keep doing this he has to make everything  _stop._ Stop stop stop stop  _stop_ _MAKE THE SCREAMS STOP-_

Long thorns dig into his stomach and he shudders in pain, eyes shutting tightly, then he sighs softly and relaxes just a bit as the screaming stops. Apparently this is enough pain to make it go  _away_ except it's also rather a lot of pain. 

Well... better than the screams. Mostly. 

 

 

He doesn't get much sleep in. There are no nightmares, but he... he's in pain. This really hurts. He can stand it, though, it- it's better than the- 

Actually, he's starting to question if this is better than the screams. 

That's what he does with most of his morning. He curls up into a tiny ball and tries to decide if having thorns stabbing into most of him is better than reliving- 

Oh.  _That's_ where they are. They're- this is- 

This is a town built over the ruins of the first place he destroyed after being turned. 

So: thorns or one of the worst memories of his four-thousand-year-life?

At least the thorns don't make him want to  _die._ They do make Gor stare at him weirdly. Maybe he smells like blood.

He probably does. 

 _Ow_ Warg muzzle shoving against his stomach is  _painful_ , and he can't keep himself from yowling in pain as Gor shoves him. The Warg is very strong and is jabbing the entire length of several bramble twigs into his stomach. Aaand of course Sharpclaw notices. 

 

"Okay, what did you- come here." Sharpclaw orders, walking over and picking him up, then narrows his eyes at- hm, apparently he can feel the brambles. "What did... what is this? Did you... what'd you do?" he whispers, tugging the wraith's sleeve up a bit, then shifts the bandage underneath and winces at the sight of the bramble. "What the- okay, that's it. You're coming with me." the hybrid growls, and it's actually a  _growl,_ and he really does not sound happy. 

 

Oh no. Oh, he's... he's screwed up. Sharpclaw actually sounds  _angry,_ and the hybrid's grip is very firm and there is absolutely no way that he's getting away from Sharpclaw now and he really doesn't know what to expect especially considering that his captor is walking off into the forest and there are probably bad things out there- 

A frightened whimper tugs its way out of the wraith's throat, but he doesn't struggle- it won't do him any good. He just digs his nails into Sharpclaw's arm guard and shivers, heart racing as he stares around and tries to figure out where Sharpclaw is taking him. He's scared, honestly, he's really scared and he doesn't know what to do because he's just made his source of protection and comfort mad at him and that is  _bad-_

 

Sharpclaw walks up to the edge of a large stream, then very gently sets the wraith down on a log, moving to crouch in front of him. Putting as much authority into his voice as he can, he meets the shaking wraith's eyes as much as possible, regretting his decision to not explain himself but trying to be firm for now. "Okay... I'm not sure what you did, but you are  _going_ to take your shirt off and show me. Those bandages, too- take them off. Not the ones around your hips, the ones you put there." 

It takes a lot of effort for him to not just reach over and hug the wraith at the sight of how much his companion is  _shaking,_ but- there is something very wrong here, and he needs to stay back and figure out what it is and how to help. It gets even harder to not just pick the poor thing up when he realizes how  _far_ the bandages reach - _all on both arms and around his midsection, that has to HURT, why in the world is he-_ but he manages it, though barely. He doesn't quite manage to restrain himself when the bandages come off, though... he can't help but lean forwards and touch one of the brambles. "What the  _Hell?_ Alright- we're going to take those out. Actually-  _I'm_ going to take those out. You're just going to sit still and let me do it. I'm sorry, but that is not negotiable. I'm doing this myself." 

 

Sharpclaw is... angry because he's injured? Yes, it... it seems so. Well, that... is a lot better than the alternatives. The wraith shivers, licking his lips, and he doesn't resist as Sharpclaw takes his hand and starts to unwind the bramble. He whines very softly as the thorns come out, though partly from the sting and partly because- 

He  _needs_ those. He needs to make the screams stop needs to make himself  _pay_ so they'll  _stop_ or at least he needs to  _run_ and get  _away from here-_

 

"Shh. Just be still. I know it hurts, but these need to come out so we can get those cuts cleaned... you are gonna get a really nasty infection if we don't. Trust me on that. Gets nasty." Sharpclaw mutters, peeling another bramble away and tossing it aside. "Now... try to calm down, okay? I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not happy about this, I'm really not, but I won't hurt you... that'd be a bit counterproductive. And I really just have no desire to hurt you, okay? You seem nice. I like you. I am not going to hurt you. Alright?" he whispers, still gently working on unwrapping the brambles, then sighs at a particularly pained little noise. "Sorry. There's a really long one here. Hang on, it broke off- ah, there we are. Got it. Just a couple more strands..." 

 

Ow. 

Okay, though, he- he does like the touches. Just a bit. More than a bit. A lot. Oh, that feels- yes. It does hurt quite a bit to have the thorns being pried out, but the  _touches_ are- 

Still shivering, the wraith tucks into himself, then leans slightly into Sharpclaw and shudders all over. He- he wants-  _comfort._ And Sharpclaw is offering that, so he's... he's really not about to refuse. It feels too nice to refuse, even if Sharpclaw still has a bit of a growl somewhere in his chest. He's just... he... he needs comfort. Please. Closing his eyes tighter, the wraith wraps his arms around himself in a futile attempt at keeping his heartrate down, then whimpers when his arms are pried away from his body. Yes, it's to get the thorns off, but still- he doesn't like it. 

And, once all the thorns are out, he needs comfort even more. Mostly because now there isn't quite enough pain to keep the screams away - _not enough to punish you-_ but also because he has no idea what's going to happen next but  _something_ is going to happen and that  _terrifies_ him. 

Did... Sharpclaw just tell him to take his pants off? 

Oh Hell. He didn't misunderstand. That's actually what Sharpclaw said. And now the hybrid is taking off his shirt and  _no_ dear Lord  _NO._

But he still can't refuse... 

 

"What are you-  _oh._ No, no- I didn't mean-" Sharpclaw firmly shakes his head, then backs away and raises both hands, trying to look harmless. "No, I promise, I wasn't trying to make you- no. I wasn't. I just... okay, I'm sorry, I really should have phrased that better, but I just... look, I have an idea, and it involves us both in the river. I'm not asking you to get  _naked,_ that'd be really awkward and I'm pretty sure you'd have some sort of a panic attack, but- can you just take your pants off? Undershorts stay on. It's not gonna hurt us to sit next to the fire in wet undershorts, we'll dry off quickly, but it's gonna get chilly at night and I don't think you really want us to be walking around in wet pants. So... if you really just hate the idea, you can refuse, but... are you willing to trust me?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see. So far we have:  
> Anxiety  
> Paranoia  
> Extreme guilt  
> Lingering disassociation (I think? Not sure what else to call it)  
> Flashbacks (comparatively minor so far)  
> Self-disgust  
> Self-harm as a form of self-punishment and a means of staying present  
> At least one panic attack  
> Aaand a few miscellaneous others.  
> I'm pretty sure this is officially PTSD.
> 
> Poor wraith is stuck in a vicious cycle. The pain helps with the guilt by acting as a means of punishment and helps with the disassociation by throwing him over into survival/fight-or-flight mode, but that makes him more observant and much more anxious, and that fuels both his recognition of landmarks (fueling the disassociation) and the guilt, and those up the amount of pain that it takes to keep him aware and not feeling like he should crawl into a hole and die. Sharpclaw needs to find a way to steer him out before he gets to the point where he can't satisfy the guilt and anchor himself without a LOT of damage.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a much more cheerful note than everything in the previous chapter and most of this one, an anonymous awesome Tumblr person sent me this (eerily accurate) fanart of my marshmallow babs: 56.media.tumblr.com/8570043b798fd3cfecf9767aa5bde228/tumblr_o17vsmuPtc1r4dvb6o1_540.png
> 
> Also, for anyone unclear on just how large Gor is: http://bett-splendens.tumblr.com/post/138069963309/just-a-couple-of-demonstrations-of-how-very-large

Does he trust Sharpclaw on this? 

Not particularly. He likes his clothes, thanks. He also likes not being naked in a river with a half-goblin several times his weight. But there's blood dripping down most of his upper body and it really doesn't feel good and he doesn't want to smell like blood and he- 

He also kinda wants whatever Sharpclaw is offering that might help him feel better. So... he'll try it. He doesn't want to, but... it's not like he deserves the choice, anyway. Whining very softly, he slowly takes his pants off, then wraps his arms around himself and shivers. He's not much of a fan of this whole "mostly naked in the forest" thing. Especially not with Sharpclaw also mostly naked and standing right in front of him. That's a bit unnerving. That's a lot unnerving. Especially now that he can see just how muscular Sharpclaw is. That is a lot of muscle and that is very unnerving and also a little bit interesting. Mostly unnerving. 

 

"Um... hi." Sharpclaw ventures, offering him a little wave, then gently offers the (clearly very nervous) wraith a hand. "...care to join me?" he coaxes, stepping into the water in order to demonstrate that it isn't about to attack them. "The bottom's little pebbles, so we won't be stirring up muck, and see how clear the water is? We can see what lives in here. Looks like... a few trout, tiny gar over there, aaand- one turtle. Turtle's goin' that way. He's outta here, and so is the baby gar. Trout are kinda just over there in the corner. Don't worry, nobody in here is gonna bug us. It's safe, I promise... it's safe. You're not going to get bitten by anything, and I'll make sure no one comes anywhere near you without your permission. It's okay..." the hybrid croons, then smiles when he's slowly offered a hand. "Thank you." he whispers, very gently taking the slender little hand and offering just a slight tug in an effort to coax his companion in.

 

He's a... little bit unsure about this, still. For many reasons. But the first touch to the water actually feels... pretty good. It's cold, but it's interesting. So he slowly takes another few steps into the water, genuinely starting to enjoy this as he feels the wavelets lapping at him. The instinctive fear of water is entirely gone now, and... this is nice. Somewhat. Aside from the pain, he... he's actually feeling pretty decent, and so he walks a bit further, just enough to be about thigh-deep. And he does not like cold water on his crotch, but by now he actually really wants to get into the water (he's not sure why) and so he walks a bit further, only stopping when he's about up to his waist. There's blood in the water now, clouding it slightly, and his eyes fix on that- 

And then Sharpclaw steps a bit too close and he  _flinches,_ cowering away from the larger being who's standing right behind him and looking down at him and  _reaching for him-_

 

"Hey, hey... easy. It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise, just... let me get a bit closer, please. I'm not going to hurt you, I'm just... trying to help. So, here... take this, okay? Those cuts on your hips could do with a bit of cleaning. I won't touch them, but... I'd like to get everything else cleaned off. I'll be gentle, I promise... I'm just going to rinse them off. May I start with your stomach?" Sharpclaw whispers, offering him a small cloth that he's been keeping- somewhere, evidently. "I keep a few of these on hand. They're clean, don't worry... and they're really soft. Just... give it a try, okay?" 

 

The wraith shivers, uncertain, then slowly takes the offered cloth and dips it in the nearest non-bloody water that he can reach. The water is flowing, in fact they're just downstream of a waterfall that appears to be bubbling straight out of the rockwork, so it's clean and probably safe to use for this. Boiled water would probably work better, but that might not be an option with how  _many_ cuts he has. So... he'll do this. Slowly nudging the waistband of his undershorts off one hip, just a bit, he lightly dabs at the cuts over his hipbone, then glances back at Sharpclaw and nods. Yes. He'll... okay. He doesn't want to die of an infection, so the cleaning is probably a good choice. And... it's not like he's any more vulnerable than he was before, so... there's not  _too_ much reason for him not to let Sharpclaw... 

He can't help but flinch as Sharpclaw reaches for him, but then the larger being is pressed ever-so-gently against his back and he's still very  _warm_ and his hands are so  _gentle_ aaand this would be a lot better if they weren't both mostly naked. Mostly naked is not good. Everything else involving Sharpclaw, though? That is good. Very good. There are gentle hands on his stomach, and... mmh. 

 

"I know a guy -knew him, really, no clue where he is any more- who went through some  _very_ bad stuff. I really don't know what, he won't say, but... I might have an idea. Not my place to say, though. Anyway, he has this big scar across the back of his hand from something entirely unrelated- incident involving a drunk guy and a pickaxe, apparently. If something happens that upsets him and he starts to lose reality, he whacks that scar against something. Says the pain clears his head and keeps him present. Is... is that what you're doing? Because, if you really need some sort of pain to keep you present, I... think we can find something else for you to do. You know, something that doesn't involve you... poking holes in yourself." Sharpclaw sighs, very gently dabbing at his stomach for a moment before moving a bit higher. "So... is that what you were up to?" 

 

Yes. And maybe he should just... just go with that. "I am traumatized and I hurt myself in order to not remember what happened" sounds a lot better than "I did a lot of horrible things and I am trying to punish myself for it to make the screams in my head stop". Staring firmly down at the water rather than even trying to meet Sharpclaw's eyes, he nods slightly, desperately hoping that Sharpclaw will stop asking now.

He doesn't. 

 

"And... there's something else, isn't there." the hybrid sighs, and it's definitely not a question. "If you only needed the pain, you'd leave it at this and just keep poking something. You kept trying to make it worse. So... what is it? You obviously don't like the pain, and I know nobody was around to make you do it, so... only other thing I can think of is... were you trying to punish yourself for something?" he whispers, hands stilling and very gently resting on the trembling wraith's chest and stomach. "Did you... hurt someone?" 

 

Yes. He's nodding before he can stop himself, nodding and whimpering and digging his nails into the cuts on his hip, and he's still whimpering as Sharpclaw pries his hand away from his hip because Sharpclaw just made him think of the  _screams_ because he didn't just "hurt someone" he hurt a  _lot_ of people, he  _killed_ a lot of people, and he- he  _did_ and he's  _sorry_ and- and he can't make it  _better_ and he can't make the screams  _stop_ and it- he's-  _sorry sorry I'm so sorry I didn't want to I didn't mean to but I couldn't STOP-_

_He made me I'm sorry I didn't want to I tried not to I'm sorry I'm so SORRY-_

 

"Hey, hey... easy. Stop that. Right now- you stop that." Sharpclaw orders, taking both of the wraith's delicate hands in his and holding him still. "Look- you're obviously sorry for what you did. And, you know what? I think you're a good person. You seem nice, and... this is gonna sound a bit weird, but Gor likes you. He's really good at figuring people out- I think he can read body language better than anyone else. He thinks you're a good person, and... even if he is a Warg, I trust his judgement. Mostly because I agree. So you need to stop that, right now." he orders, giving the wraith just a tiny shake to get him to stop focusing on- whatever it is inside himself that he's focused on. "Quit trying to hurt yourself. You don't need to do that. You're sorry, clearly, and... you've been in a lot of pain. Not just from this, earlier. Now... I don't agree with using pain as a punishment. But, since you clearly think it's the right path for you... haven't you been through enough?" 

 

No. Because  _nothing_ will ever be enough, he is responsible for literally  _thousands_ of deaths, by his own hands and by the ones he's led and he's  _tortured_ and he's murdered  _children_ and he can  _never_ make up for that- 

His fingernails dig into Sharpclaw's palms as he tries to get loose, then the wraith goes limp and just  _whimpers,_ only held up by his companion's grip and by the water. No, he hasn't been through enough, and he never  _will_ be and that's mostly because Sharpclaw won't  _let him-_

A pained little cry tugs its way out of his throat and he stares up at Sharpclaw with the most pathetic look he can manage, silently begging to just be allowed to  _make himself pay._ He... he just wants to be... just wants to make the screaming stop. Please. Please. 

 

Sharpclaw moves into shallower water, then slowly sits down, very gently tugging the wraith with him. Cradling the slender being very gently in his lap, he gives the most soothing hum that he can manage, then acts on impulse and very gently nuzzles the side of his shaking companion's head. It might not be the wisest move, but hey... maybe it'll work. Besides, that's the first comforting gesture that comes to mind. He's really not sure why, but... sure. "Hey, hey... shh. I'm not going to let you tear yourself open. I don't care if it helps you, I can't let you do that. I'm sorry. We... need to find a different way for you to feel better. So... here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to hold you like this so you can stay warm for a bit longer, and I'm going to just... give you a minute to calm down. I need you to take a few deep breaths, and then I need you to look up at me. Can you do that for me?" 

 

No. 

Maybe. 

Shaking all over, he slowly takes a deep breath, then another, and then very slowly turns to look up at Sharpclaw for just a moment before he returns his gaze to the water. Curling into a tiny ball and staring down at the water that's now up to his collarbone, he does his best to stay calm, but it- it doesn't quite work. He's pretty sure he's about to cry. 

 

"I forgive you. You hear me? Whatever you did, whatever you think you need to tear yourself apart for, whatever you're so very sorry for, I forgive you. You are forgiven. You think you have blood on your hands, so... wash it off. Some part of you changed right before I found you, and I don't know what it was, but as far as I'm concerned you have a chance to start over. So... I forgive you." Sharpclaw whispers, and he doesn't stop. He keeps whispering it, over and over, even as the wraith in his arms hiss-shrieks up at him and then starts to sob very softly. "I have you, I forgive you, and I'm here for you. It's okay, Spook... it's okay." 

 

It is  _not_ okay. And Sharpclaw doesn't have the authority to- to forgive him- for what he- 

But it- 

But Sharpclaw is- 

Sharpclaw won't stop  _repeating_ it and he's almost starting to believe it and he- 

Aaand now he's definitely crying. Huddling into a tiny ball, he covers his eyes and just  _sobs,_ chest heaving as he tries to keep himself silent. It doesn't work, though, and he can't tell if Sharpclaw is upset by that or not- 

_LET GO OF ME I don't want to be here and you have no RIGHT-_

Sharpclaw won't let go of his hands and he can't dig his nails into his arms any more because of that but he wants his hands  _back_ so he can  _get away_ and just go back to what was working- and, for some reason he may never understand, his response to not having his hands given back is to bite Sharpclaw's arm. Hard. Maybe he's just mad and lashing out, maybe he's infuriated by the restraint, maybe he... just wants to do something other than sit here helplessly. 

 

"Ow- hey. Rude." Sharpclaw complained, but he didn't let go of the wraith's hands- he didn't tighten his grip, he didn't respond negatively to the bite, he just didn't let go. "Stop that. I'm sorry you're upset, I'm sorry, but hurting yourself -or me- is not going to do you any good. And... you know what? This doesn't change anything. I still forgive you for everything, and that includes this. I would really appreciate not having your fangs in my arm, but... you know what? I'm not mad. I know I'm upsetting you, and I'm sorry, but... I'm trying to help. And, as I'm sure you've noticed by now, I am very stubborn when I'm trying to help someone. I'm not going to leave you here, especially if you're this upset. Now... can you let go before you draw blood, please?" 

 

Slowly letting go, the wraith stares down at the water for a moment more, then whimpers and tries once more to pull his hands away. Not to hurt himself, though- just to wrap his arms around himself and hide. And... and it... it actually works. Sort of. 

Instead of letting go, Sharpclaw allows the motion to happen, but he mimics it- which ends with Sharpclaw's arms wrapped around him as well, the larger being hugging him even closer and still whispering  _you are forgiven_ to him, and he- he's- 

Curling into Sharpclaw, he trembles all over and just hides his face as much as possible, shaking and sobbing and... pretty much just falling apart. 

 

 

 

Sharpclaw just gently cradles the wraith for awhile, whispering soothing things to him in an effort to calm him down, then shifts him just a bit and begins gently dabbing at his back with the cloth. "Okay... you just get everything out, I'm going to get all these cuts cleaned off. Whenever you're feeling better, you let me know, and... we can get out if you want. Or we can... go stand under that waterfall for a bit, maybe? I might not quite fit under it, but you will, and waterfalls are fun." 

He doesn't stop, either. He cleans his companion's entire back, then as much of his front as he can reach, then his arms.

And, by the time he's done, the wraith isn't crying any more. Shuddering, yes, but not crying. That's... probably better. 

"Hey... you with me?" 

 

Yes. 

Mostly. 

He does  _not_ feel good, but he's here, and he's coherent. He doesn't have his hands back, though- Sharpclaw is somehow holding both of them still with one large hand. He doesn't have as many objections as before, he's... really just too tired. 

...Sharpclaw is touching his hair now. He's... okay, actually, he's fine with this. Closing his eyes, he leans back slightly, deciding to just relax and let Sharpclaw do... whatever he has in mind. He doesn't feel like complaining. And, actually- that feels kinda good. 

 

"Oh, you... you like this? Alright, sure. Lean back a bit more, okay? There we go... that's it. I'm... just gonna keep going. Let me know if you have any complaints about anything." Sharpclaw whispers, gently running his fingers through the wraith's hair for a moment. "Here... 's this feel nice? I know I'd kinda like to have someone do this for me, and... sure looks like you're enjoying it. I... think you're purring? Really quietly, though. You okay?" 

 

He's better. "Okay" might not be the right word, but yes. Better. And he... he actually... he's starting to believe that... that Sharpclaw, at least, forgives him. Probably wouldn't if he had any idea what he was forgiving, but... it does seem genuine. 

Which is why he spends quite awhile trying to figure that out. Also enjoying the fact that his hair is being stroked. Once again, caught between "this feels good and I like it" and "I AM PAINFULLY CONFUSED BY YOU". Sharpclaw is good at causing this, apparently. Very good. He really doesn't know what to do with that. Doesn't know what to do with much of anything. Very confused. Still in a bit of pain. Too guilty to feel good, too tired to be guilty, too confused to fall asleep. Too confused to anything. 

He's just so very confused. 

Help? 

 

Sharpclaw pauses at an inquisitive little chirp, then smiles gently down at the wraith, finally letting go of his hands. "Still confused, huh? That's fine. I'm afraid I don't really have any more answers, I'm just... I'm trying to help. I trust you, I like you, and I don't think you're a bad person. And... you really regret whatever you did, obviously, so I'm giving you my forgiveness. I can't make you forgive yourself, I know, but... I can try. So... I'm going to say it again. Whatever happened to you before I found you, you've got a second chance. Take it. Wash the blood off, take the opportunity, and... find your redemption. I don't know if you can fix whatever you did, I don't know if you can ever forgive yourself, but... at least give it a try. At the very least, stop hurting yourself like this- it won't fix anything. It'll just be someone else suffering." 

 

Okay. That's... maybe a bit of a valid point. He's not about to bring anyone back by spilling his own blood. Except that the point was never to bring anyone back, it was to make himself  _pay,_ to- to make himself- 

He needs to- 

Shivering all over, the wraith stares down at his hands, then whines and reaches for his own stomach- but stops. Sharpclaw doesn't want him to do that. He doesn't want to upset Sharpclaw, he- he  _likes_ his companion. Actually kind of a lot. He doesn't really want to upset Sharpclaw again. He saw a bit of anger before, and it... it actually... it upset him for more reasons than just the fear of what might happen to him. It upset him because he didn't want to upset or disappoint Sharpclaw, but he had. And he- he doesn't want to do it again, he- 

And then cold water is splashing across his face and he's sputtering in surprise, eyes wide but suddenly very present. Oh, hey- what just- what was- 

 

"Sorry, but- that seemed like a healthier way to get you back to reality than cutting you open. You good?" Sharpclaw whispers, then smiles when he nods slightly. "Good, that's good. Now... you wanna go and stand under that waterfall, huh? Bet it'll be nice." he offers, then stands up at another little nod. "Alright- let's go over there. Doesn't look too deep, but either way, I've got you. I'm not gonna let you drown, promise." 

 

 

 

 

_He's letting me touch him._

_And not just that- he's letting me touch him and pet his hair and he's actually ENJOYING it and he's so cute oh my gods. He's hurting so badly, though... I really shouldn't be enjoying this. He's scared and upset and I shouldn't be enjoying anything even remotely related to- well, I don't know what's wrong, but I shouldn't enjoy it. I should NOT enjoy this. I- I can't just- just take advantage of him. I... I shouldn't. Shouldn't get too close to him unless he wants._

_But it's probably okay to just really hope that he wants. I mean... he acts like he's never had any sort of nice attention. And I really don't think he ever gets much, but he seems to like it. There's... no reason I shouldn't... shouldn't just offer, right?_

_Maybe not._

_Oh no look at him he's all wet NO BRAIN NOT NOW-_

_Don't stare don't stare don't stare_

_Just keep a hand near him so he won't trip and touch him very gently if he wants it and DON'T touch him otherwise. Be gentle. Maybe... maybe offer to pet his hair later. He liked that. Don't make an excuse, though- just ask. Be honest. Doesn't matter how tempting, can't lie. Have to keep his trust._

It's... very enticing to touch, though. The wraith is still underweight, but lithe muscles shift under wet grey skin as he moves, and his gait is as fluid as that of any cat. And there's still water dripping down his back and okay maybe Sharpclaw should stop looking about now because it's getting so much harder to not touch- 

He just really wants to run his fingertips down the wraith's spine, though, just- just wants to see him arch his back and croon and purr, wants- he just wants to make his companion feel good, that's all. That's okay... right? 

_Not if he doesn't want it. Don't touch him if he doesn't want you to touch him. Ask first. Gently. Let him relax. Let him explore a bit, then maybe ask._

_And it might be okay to watch as long as he doesn't mind. Or notice. Probably best if he doesn't notice._

He can't quite help watching. He lets go of the wraith's hand when they're both standing right next to the waterfall, which allows him to back up a little bit, and he at least tries not to stare... he's just a little bit fascinated. Mostly because the wraith appears to have been distracted by the waterfall, and the tension is mostly gone. Hopefully it'll stay that way, because otherwise- 

Otherwise he ends up with a sobbing, bloody wraith in his lap. That's really just not a good thing. It makes him want to hurt something. Which, since he can't hurt a trauma, is not helpful. 

 

Soft golden eyes watch him for a moment, then the wraith ducks backwards and just about vanishes into a hidden alcove behind the waterfall, aaand that's probably an attempt to avoid him. It doesn't look  _too_ worried, though, it just looks like a vaguely concerned gesture. Hopefully that's all. Just- just a slightly nervous gesture, looks like. Maybe a bit of concern in those eyes, but mostly- mostly just pain. Which is really a shame, because- 

 

_How could I let him do that to himself? I **gave him**  the knife, for crying out loud, and I- I didn't keep a close enough eye on him after he did that. I am an **idiot** for thinking that  **Gor** would keep him from hurting himself. I mean- Gor is a big ole sweetie and he'd definitely wake me up if he thought something was wrong, but he- he's not- I really shouldn't have expected him to notice anything more subtle than an actual knife. I... I didn't think he'd be so stubborn, though, I... okay, I was an idiot and I don't know anything about people who are in enough emotional pain that physical pain actually helps somehow. Well, okay, I know a little bit, but- but really not enough for this. _

_I don't know what the heck I'm doing and I'm probably going to hurt this poor thing even more because I have no clue._

_I should... look for someone with a better idea what to do. Except that I really have no idea where to look._

_Okay. Let's get him cleaned off and feeling better, and then... go sit in one of those hidden corner tables in the bar and quietly ask around. Doubt I'll find someone who knows any better, but maybe I can find somewhere nice._

_Or maybe I should just go ask Mom. She taught me half this stuff, she probably knows more._

_Aaand I'm gonna be bringing my mom another hurt critter. At least this time we don't have to worry about hoof marks everywhere. This one's cuter, too._

_Brain, no._

_Bad brain._

_Oh nooo cute eyes-_

_NO stop. I shouldn't be enjoying this, I- I hurt him. Maybe not directly, but I gave him a knife and I didn't watch him closely enough and yeah this is probably my fault. At least mostly. Can't blame him for this, it's not his fault that somebody's messed him up this badly._

_...I really need to get some help who won't be staring at him and secretly calling him adorable._

_Okay- get him feeling better, get his hips all bandaged up, get his clothes back on -mostly because thinking he's adorable in those clothes is probably better than staring at him right now- and then go ask around in the bar. And he might not appreciate this very much, but I will absolutely be taking him with me, because otherwise I'm gonna come back to him standing in fire ants or something. Let's not do that. I'm... gonna have to just not leave him alone for awhile, I guess. Or... I wonder if he'll let me just wrap a bandage around his hand and- no, I doubt he'll enjoy that. Maybe I should... okay, no, I don't have any ideas other than just keeping an eye on him and trying to distract him from whatever he keeps getting lost in._

 

 

 

 

 

Sharpclaw is still watching him. And he's... hmm. Not really sure what he thinks of that. He... he does like that Sharpclaw is trying to keep him from potentially slipping, but he's just standing under a tiny waterfall. He's fine. And... does he really want Sharpclaw watching him? It's a little bit... creepy? No, that's... not quite the right word. Maybe just a bit unnerving. And... and maybe a little bit... interesting. He's not sure why. Licking his lips, the wraith stares out at Sharpclaw for a moment, then shivers and  _whines_ as the sensation of cold water hitting his wounds registers. Ow. Okay, this is- 

It's helping him stay present, yes, but the cold water was already doing a reasonable job of that and this actually hurts a  _lot._ Biting his (already bleeding) lip, he shudders and huddles into himself, then offers Sharpclaw a somewhat pained look.  _Ow._ This actually really, really hurts, but he- he's not going to step out of the waterfall because the screams are  _gone_ and he can't give that up but it  _hurts-_

A pained little cry escapes him, and the next thing he knows, there's a half-goblin between him and the worst of the water. Chirping softly in surprise, he blinks up at Sharpclaw, then just gives a confused little whine. He... wasn't expecting compassion. It's his own fault he's in pain, why- why is Sharpclaw trying to help him with it? 

 

"Yeah, sorry, I... kinda forgot how very not fun it is to be under a waterfall if you're bleeding. Been a long time since I've done that. Here- I'll block the worst of it. You just try to get everything rinsed out, okay? Those are puncture wounds, which means it's difficult to get them cleaned out inside, and it also means we can't close them up because there's a pretty high chance that they'll get infected. If they do, they have to be open and draining, or else all the infection gets trapped inside and just starts spreading. And... I'm gonna be honest. Those scars on your hips are... probably going to scar. You're pulling on them with every step, every time you move at all, so... there's no way those are going to heal perfectly. The rest of these might scar, but the scars shouldn't last too long, since they're little marks. I'm just... not really sure how much it's going to show up on this dark skin of yours. We don't have to worry about that now, though... let's just get you cleaned off for now. Here... start with your arm?" Sharpclaw coaxes, very gently taking his hand and coaxing him to hold his arm under the waterfall. "Just for a minute, alright? Let me know if it's a bit too much." 

 

Okay, he's... still very confused by this much compassion. He's not complaining, though. Except for the fact that- that he's- 

Sharpclaw is right up against him and the half-goblin is very warm and damp and  _strong_ and he really doesn't know what to do with this. Except lean against Sharpclaw and hope it's not noticed. And then just shiver a bit and quietly let the wounds be cleaned out and try not to whimper too much. He doesn't want to annoy Sharpclaw, he- he's grateful for this, he really is, he just- he hurts. Quite a bit. 

This is a lot better than having his entire body being assaulted by the waterfall, though. So he stays completely still as one arm is cleaned, then the other, and he doesn't protest as he's gently moved around to clean his back, he just- just whimpers a bit. Hurts. Hurts a lot. And then Sharpclaw spins him around and there's cold water drenching his entire front. And that hurts even more, and not only does it hurt, cold water gushing down his front and over his crotch is not fun.  _Cold._ Coldcoldcold. Extremely cold. Not comfortable. Whining slightly, the wraith does his best to stay still, though it doesn't entirely work- this is cold and painful and  _not fun._

 

"Okay, okay... just a minute. Look, tell you what- you can stand just about anything for five seconds, yeah? Well... five, four, three, two, one- there." Sharpclaw croons, then blinks as the wraith immediately darts around behind him. "That really sucked, huh? It's alright, though, we're done. You're really cold, though... I can feel you shaking. Tell you what... let's get you out of here, okay? We'll go sit next to the campfire and dry out a bit, then I'll bandage up the worst of those cuts and we can just try to relax. I have something that'll help keep those cuts from getting infected, and... you know what? I'm going to help you find a better way to deal with- whatever it is you're dealing with. One that does not involve bleeding. Yeah?"  


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone notice the pronoun shift a couple chapters back? Spook stopped thinking of Sharpclaw as an it. That was not accidental.
> 
> Uh... more of the same from the last chapter. A lot of freaking out. Like, a lot. Also some misunderstandings about intentions. Prolonged... flashback? Panic attack? Adrenaline burst? Possibly some combination, I'm really not sure what to call this thing. Big mess of terror. Not fun.   
> Sharpclaw officially has very little idea what he's doing. He's in way over his head and therefore may make some mistakes.   
> Several POV shifts because it was either that or post a bunch of tiny chapters.

He's... hm. 

Really not sure if he's okay. 

He's being carried very gently in Sharpclaw's arms, curled up into a little ball, and... it actually feels pretty good. Sharpclaw is kind of damp, though. Actually- really damp. Wet. And warm. Soft skin, too. And he smells nice. And this is just a very strange train of thought and he really doesn't know what to do with all of these observations about how- how much he- 

Sharpclaw is strong and friendly and he smells like  _safety_ aaand  _oh_ there's a reason he's- 

It has been a very, very long time since he's felt anything that can even be remotely referred to as attraction to someone, but- but he wants- 

He wants  _something._ He's not sure what. But he does know that it involves Sharpclaw and probably a lot more physical contact. He does  _not_ want to- to have-  _no_ thank you he likes being able to walk. And he doesn't want to be in any more pain and he doesn't want to be pinned or hurt or  _humiliated_ but he wants somethingand he wants to feel  _good_ and Sharpclaw might be able to give him that but he- he wants- he doesn't want to be held down or pinned or anything like that but he so badly wants to- to do  _something_ that might feel good and he- 

He doesn't want to  _fuck,_ but he-

Somewhere in the back of his mind is just a trace of a memory, and he can't pin down what it was or what he saw but he does remember a feeling of  _want,_ and it's- 

He really needs to figure out what that memory was, because if he can figure it out, he'll probably realize what it is that he wants from Sharpclaw. He... he might actually have an idea, but... but he wants... he wants to feel  _good_ and there are certain parts of him that have a very firm idea of what he should do in order to achieve that. He shouldn't, though. Mostly because of the aforementioned reasons, partially because he- he doesn't even- he- 

_I don't deserve to feel good. Really don't. Don't deserve this attention from him._

And he can't shake that thought. So, the second he's put down, he curls into a tiny ball and just hides as much as possible. Maybe Sharpclaw will leave him alone if he looks like he's nervous enough? He really can't think of any other option right now, though, he- he hurts. 

 

Sharpclaw takes a little while to get a fire started, then slowly approaches the tiny ball of wraith, being sure to make enough noise that he won't startle the poor thing. Slowly sitting down near the shaking wraith, he slowly rests a hand on his companion's shoulder, then sighs softly when the wraith still flinches in shock. "Hey- sorry, didn't meant to startle you. Are you, uh... are you okay? No, actually- sorry, dumb question. You clearly aren't okay. I'm just, uh... gonna see if I can help you, alright? Now... first thing I'm gonna do is be sure those cuts don't get infected. I have a jar of something that'll help with that, so I'm just going to dab it on these deeper marks, alright? I'm, ah... not sure if I have enough of it for all of you. So... you tell me if this hurts at all, okay?" 

 

_Please go away._

Curling tighter into himself, the wraith whimpers very softly in distress, then shivers at a light touch to his back. He doesn't try to get away, though, he just shivers and occasionally whines up at the hybrid. He'd like to be left alone, please. He doesn't deserve this, really, and he- he's not going to be able to keep himself from leaning into Sharpclaw if this doesn't stop soon, but he- he really shouldn't be- 

_Want._

He can't help but lean into it, just a little bit. It doesn't hurt, it- it really doesn't, it actually feels good. He just... he... he's... 

He's weak and he hurts and he wants comfort. Whining very softly, he slowly uncurls a bit, then inches a bit closer to Sharpclaw and slowly leans on the half-goblin. He- he really doesn't deserve this, he just- he- Sharpclaw is- 

He's pathetic and weak and he's not strong enough to fight this like he should, but- 

Oh, Hell. He doesn't care. He just wants to feel better. Is that so wrong? 

Yes, it is, at least for him. He doesn't  _deserve_ to- 

And then Sharpclaw finds a spot on the back of his neck that makes his mind go entirely blank and he can't help but collapse. And  _oh_ that feels  _good_ and okay yes he's weak but he really doesn't care all that much right now because  _that feels very, very good._

Except- no, he's- no- he's  _bad-_

 

 

 

 

_Oh no._

_Ohhh no this shouldn't be **cute** but- but he's- I need to keep him calm and happy, and I don't know if I can do happy, but I can probably manage calm and maybe I'll just- oh he's so cute I'm just going to pick him up. That's- that's okay, right? I mean, I like holding him and he seems to like it and I need to get him calmed down anyway- _

And then the wraith bats at his hand and tries to push the jar away, and that's it, his mind is made up. "Hey- hey, no. Look, I- I really don't want to upset you any more, but I need to get this on you, so- uh, tell you what, come here." Sharpclaw coaxes, then gestures slightly to his companion, trying his best to be calming. "It's alright, just... c'mere, okay? I... look, I don't know what's wrong, honestly, but... I'm trying to help, I promise." he croons, slowly offering a hand, then sighs and shakes his head slightly when the wraith bats at him again. "No, no, I'm- look, I'll be honest, this isn't something we can negotiate. We can do whatever makes you more comfortable, but... this is kinda important. So no swatting at me, okay? You can hiss all you want, and you don't have to uncurl or look up at me, but I don't want you hitting me. So..." 

Soft little hands touch his arm, very softly, and then- then there's a wraith in his lap. Oh. Okay. This is happening. "Uh... okay. This works. Sure. Here, I'll just- keep going. Let me know if you don't like what I'm doing, and... uh, yeah, that's all." he decides, dabbing gently at a row of deep puncture wounds along the wraith's back that look to be thanks to some rather wide thorns. "Now... no more of this from you. I don't want to see you bleeding again, okay? I don't like seeing you hurt. If you start feeling this bad, can you- can you tell me? I know it's kinda hard to tell people when you're hurting, but... can you try, please? For me?" 

 

 

Sad? 

Why all sad? 

Gor taps his tail lightly against the ground, whining inquiringly, then slinks closer and sniffs at Sharpclaw's knee. Alpha is worried and wraith is- is hurt? 

Wraith is  _bleeding._ Blood-smell. Why- why is- oh nooo, Alpha said to watch and he watched but- but wraith is  _hurt-_

Oh nooo. He didn't watch good enough. He- he watched, he did, but he thought Alpha said to watch because bad goblins might be coming, not- 

He saw. Smelled, too, he- he smelled blood and saw sharp plants but he didn't think that wraith would hurt  _himself,_ and he- 

He didn't protect well enough. Wraith got hurt because of him. Tail curling up between his legs, Gor slinks closer and whimpers up at Sharpclaw, then whines very softly and pushes his muzzle up against his Alpha's side in a plea for forgiveness. Sorry, sorry, very sorry- he's very sorry for letting wraith get hurt, he  _likes_ wraith, and he- 

He's sorry. 

 

 

Well. Now he's dealing with both a very upset wraith and a very upset Warg. What- why is- 

Oh, maybe it's because- "No, Gor, shh- it's okay, Gor, it's okay. Good boy. It's not your fault, boy, you just didn't know. I shouldn't have expected you to understand, boy, I'm sorry. It's okay, Gor, it's okay." Sharpclaw croons, rubbing gently between the lowered ears, then hums soothingly to both the upset beings in his lap. Well- the wraith is in his lap. Gor can barely get his head into Sharpclaw's lap, there is just not enough room. "Easy, Spook... easy." he soothes, then pauses, suddenly realizing where his hand is. "...uhm."  _that's his hip. Why is your hand on his hip._ "Uh... sorry, I- this is- this is not on purpose. Um- here, can you- are you willing to just back up a bit and let me get some pads over those cuts?"  _please don't panic please don't panic please don't panic-_

 When the wraith shivers and nods, he gently nudges the much smaller being a bit further away, then lightly tugs the waistband of his shorts down slightly, just a bit- and then gives a noise of surprise and alarm when Gor attempts to help. 

 

 

Clothes coming off? Oh, okay- Alpha is probably trying to make both feel better by doing nice things. And he wants to help. Maybe he can make slightly better? Gor wags his tail and inches closer, then very gently nabs the hem of the wraith's undershorts between his front-most teeth and tugs. Clothes are in the way, so get rid of clothes, then not in way. Yes? 

Except that wraith makes scared noises and freezes up and then Sharpclaw pushes on his muzzle and nooo bad- he did bad again. Whining very softly, Gor lets go of the wraith's shorts, then slinks around behind Sharpclaw and hides. He's sorry. Very sorry again. Very very sorry. Tail tapping softly, he whimpers up at his Alpha and his new friend, then sighs and just silently hopes that everything is okay. 

 

 

 

 

 _No._ Gods no. He- no, no- 

Suddenly terrified, the wraith digs his nails into Sharpcalw's arms, whimpering softly and freezing up. NO, no, he- he doesn't want-  _no, please, no-_

And he should really be squirming away or pulling his undershorts back up or  _something,_ but he- he can't  _move._ He feels- he's-  _no-_

_Stop, stop, make him stop-_

Choking back a cry of terror, the wraith just shudders and pants for a moment, then slowly curls in on himself and bites his lip and  _sobs._ No,  _no,_ please- please please _please_ - 

 

"Okay, okay, shh- I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I did  _not_ tell Gor to do that." Sharpclaw insists, determinedly staring over the wraith's shoulder rather than looking at him. "It's okay. It's okay, shh. I'm not going to hurt you..." he coos, then pauses, one hand resting on the wraith's back. "Hey... are you okay? You're all frozen up... what's wrong? Are you- uh- oh. You're not able to move, are you? Okay, that's... that's alright. I'm, uh... 'm just gonna get your shorts back on you properly, yeah? I'm not gonna hurt you... I promise. I, uh... I'm not sure what Gor was up to. Really sorry about that, Spook... I'm not sure he understands clothes. Or anything about why people wear them. Now... easy. Try not to panic. I'm not gonna do anything bad to you, I'm just going to slowly pull your shorts back up... there. Okay, now... can you move?" 

 

No. 

Oh  _gods_ he can't- he can't  _move,_ and then one of Sharpclaw's hands brushes over his hip and his heart just about stops.

He's not certain of exactly what happens, but something locks up inside and then he's slumped against Sharpclaw's chest, barely even breathing and barely awake but aware enough to be  _terrified_ and he's- he- 

_Help. Help me. **Please.** I don't- I can't- I can't  **move** and I'm  **scared** and I don't- Sharpclaw,  **help-**_

 

"Hey, hey... shh." Sharpclaw croons, then reaches over and grabs his cloak, quickly putting it on. Wrapping the thick hide around both of them, he cradles the terrified wraith as close as possible, letting the slender frame press up against him. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you... are you alright?" he whispers, then bites his lip, suddenly very worried. "...you aren't alright. Okay, uh- what do I- oh, hang on. Mama said something about this... what was- oh, yeah. She said it's not always fight-or-flight, it's fight-flight-or-freeze. Said sometimes critters just freeze up instead of running or fighting, usually if... if they feel like they can't get away. I don't remember what she said about how to  _help,_ though. I know- I know with the other two you gotta let people work the energy out, but this isn't energy, you're just- well, I can't even- I'm honestly not sure if you're conscious. I don't know if you can hear me or not, so I'm gonna keep talking to you, and, uh... I'm going to hold you a bit closer and see if it'll help you calm down. I want you to tell me if you have any objections, okay? Or- just tell me if you can do anything at all." 

 

No. No he can't. But he- okay, that- it does help a little bit to have some idea of what the Hell is happening to him. And- and the-  _oh_ okay that's a good spot on the back of his neck and Sharpclaw is holding him very close and he's very much not sure what he thinks of that but he- 

He's scared. He's really, really scared. 

For a few minutes, the wraith just shivers and gasps, his breathing shallow and his heart racing. When he can finally draw a proper breath and  _move,_ the first thing he does is kick out until Sharpclaw lets go. The instant he's free, he's up and running, moving faster than he would have thought possible and just trying to  _get away_ from- 

He doesn't even know what he's running from, he just knows that he needs to  _run._ And when he sees a big fallen log with a gap under it, he dives into the empty space and curls up, shoving his back against it as hard as he can in order to make his back hurt so he knows he's here. Fangs bared in pain, the trembling wraith pants heavily and digs his fingers into the leaf litter, still just frantically searching for stability- then snarls loudly up at Sharpclaw when the hybrid approaches him. He- no, he- he doesn't want- except that he  _does_ he wants so badly to just make this  _stop_ but he can't he doesn't know  _how-_

_Help-_

 

"Hey... hey there, Spook. I gotcha... you're okay, I promise. You were just runnin' off some of that energy, huh? That's alright. Here... I'm not going to make you come out, but are you willing to just take my hand for a moment? You look really scared, I'd... like to help you with that." Sharpclaw whispers, slowly holding out a hand in his direction. "Here... 's okay. I won't make you come out of there if you don't want to." he croons, then smiles when the wraith slowly wraps a hand around two of his fingers. "There... thank you. Now... shh. Try to take a deep breath, okay? Just- just one. No, no, don't- slow down a bit, okay? You'll hyperventilate and end up passing out. Slow down, deep breaths... and you should probably focus on something. Can you try to do that for me? Just... focus on your breathing. It's going to be okay, I promise. It's going to be okay. I know this is scary, I know, but you're not in any danger. You're safe. I've got you... you're safe. You're okay. You're scared, you're upset, but you're okay." 

 

He's not okay he's  _really_ not okay he's scared and he hurts and his lungs don't  _work_ and then Sharpclaw squeezes his hand just a tiny bit and offers him a smile and  _oh._ Oh. Okay. That's... Sharpclaw's hand on his is... probably a better thing to focus on than... 

Whining softly, the wraith hugs Sharpclaw's hand firmly up against his chest, seeking comfort that doesn't involve him crawling into the hybrid' lap again. He wants to stay here in this safe space. He wants to shiver and hide and close his eyes and just  _breathe_ properly and- 

And he wants to not be afraid but he's afraid, he's so afraid, and he doesn't  _like_ this and he's so _scared_ and he- 

_I don't like this. I really don't like this._

But Sharpclaw touching him is starting to help, and he can finally get a handle on his breathing, and now he can actually take a proper breath instead of panting shallowly. And he's probably still breathing too fast but that's okay because he's  _breathing_ and he's starting to feel a little bit better. And, after a few more deep breaths, he can actually get his eyes to focus. Sighing softly, he shivers and wraps his arms tighter around Sharpclaw's forearm, then slowly looks up at the hybrid. Hello. 

 

"Hi there. Better?" Sharpclaw coos, evidently not minding the fact that his arm is being hugged, then sighs and offers a soft look. "Hey, I... I'll be honest here. I don't really know what to do for you. You're kinda... not really all that good. Something's wrong. Something to do with whatever you went through before I found you, I think... I don't know what's wrong, and I don't know how to fix it. I do know that... sometimes people's brains hang onto bad things that happen to them. I think it's meant to help keep that from happening again? I wouldn't really know. Whatever it is that does this, it's... it's really tricky to deal with. It's not impossible, though. I have a little bit of an idea what I'm doing, and... I think I can help a bit. Since I only know a bit, though, I am going to take you to my ma. She knows more about this than I do, she'll know how to help you. And you're... you're gonna be okay. It's gonna take awhile, but you're gonna get through all this, and you're gonna be just fine." 

 

_No I'm not. I can't make the screams **stop** and I  **hurt** myself trying and I can't uncurl I hurt and I can't even be  **alone** because I'm  **afraid** and there isn't even anything around to be afraid of and you're the only reason I'm alive I would be dead several times over or tied up as a goblin's pet or just insane without you- I can't even  **function** without you and  **I am not going to be fine.**_

 

"I, uh... I do need something from you, though. Now... you don't have to try this right now, but... I need you to try to communicate with me. It... might do you some good to talk about whatever happened. But I am  _not_ going to make you do that, okay? I know you don't want to. Just... for future reference, it might be a good thing to try." Sharpclaw croons, then smiles very softly, evidently trying to look reassuring. "And, really... I just want to talk to you. Yeah? I want to hear what you think of everything, I want to know if there's anything you'd like me to do or avoid doing, and... heck, I just wanna know if you have a  _name._ Do you... think you can try to let me know some of that? You keep makin' noises, so I bet you can manage a few words, huh? And... if you can't, that's okay, but... think you can write something out? You don't have to, though. I won't push you, I promise. I'd just... I'd like you to think about it, please. Maybe not right now, though- you're still calming back down. Just... try t' relax." 

 

No. He's not going to relax because he suddenly hates being in this little space. It's too small. Too small too small aaaand now he's out and almost standing on Sharpclaw. Oops. And this is probably not a comfortable way for him to be twisting Sharpclaw's arm up and he- he should stop. Except he doesn't want to and then Sharpclaw is standing up and smiling softly and okay apparently he didn't mess up but he's still not terribly delighted by this situation and he needs to move again please. 

 

"Woah- okay, you not gonna relax? That's fine. How about we walk back and get our clothes back on, then? We can walk a little bit and see if that helps. And... I should probably make sure Gor isn't working himself up into a big mess of worry. He gets really concerned when he upsets people. Once you calm down, it, uh- might be a good plan for you to just... at least pretend you aren't mad. It's okay if you want to be upset with him, of course, but I'd really like it if you could just pat him for a minute and pretend you're fine. Otherwise he's gonna... spend the next couple of days dropping dead animals on you and shoving his head into your lap in an attempt to make up for what he did. I'm guessing you'd rather not have that." 

 

No. No thank you. And he's... he's not happy with the Warg for scaring him, but he... he can pretend to be not angry if it means the big oaf will just leave him alone. He'll decide how he feels about Gor later. For now, he shifts his grip in order to just hold Sharpclaw's hand instead of hugging his arm, and he just shivers and waits to see what might happen. When Sharpclaw tugs very gently on his hand, he nods slightly and obeys, unwilling to resist. Whatever the hybrid says, Sharpclaw knows more about this than him- all of his memories consist of four thousand years of blood and fear and then the most terror he's ever felt, followed by something like two weeks of walking mindlessly in one direction and then- then searing, soul-deep pain, followed by the most confusing couple of weeks he has ever experienced. He... doesn't even really know how to function at this point. Sharpclaw, on the other hand, is clearly able to function. So... so he'll just- just follow Sharpclaw and try to stay breathing. That's a start.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor wraith has no idea what to do with any of his feelings or the things that his body is starting to want.  
> Sharpclaw has only a little bit more of an idea.  
> Gor is overly helpful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's someone at the end of this chapter who gets very handsy despite the fact that their attention is absolutely not wanted. Just be aware of that if that sort of thing bothers you.

Yeeeaaaah he's still not certain what to do. At all. 

He's followed Sharpclaw back to their little clearing, patted Gor on the head so the Warg will stop whimpering pathetically up at him, and... now he's just putting his clothes back on. And it's actually pretty nice- soft cloth sliding over his skin is very nice. And once his clothes are back on, he's warm and wrapped in something soft and... hmm. Okay. This is a little bit better, and he's... well, he can breathe now. Breathing is good. Very good. It's... yeah, he does need this. A lot. 

Oh. Hello. Sharpclaw is putting his pants back on and the hybrid's back is to him and  _my_ those are some visible muscles. That is very interesting. Both out of curiosity (he likes seeing how beings are put together) and out of- out of whatever it is that's making him want to- 

He still has no idea what he wants. Well, okay, he... he knows a little bit. He's pretty sure he knows what his body wants, or at least the gist of it. It's just that- that he- 

He has a problem. He's pretty sure his body wants him to go and- and get himself fucked. Except that he  _hates_ that idea and it actually makes the desire start to ease if he thinks about it and then he- then that old memory starts to tug on the back of his mind again and then his brain goes back to "go and do naked things with the attractive half-goblin" and _aaah_ when did he start thinking Sharpclaw was attractive? 

And that's how he ends up curled into a tiny ball of intense confusion and vague arousal and helpless mental flailing. And then Sharpclaw comes over and puts a hand on his back and  _help_ this is making it worse but Sharpclaw is also making him feel better because there is a gentle hand rubbing along his spine and  _oohhh_ that feels very good but it's entirely too good for his liking mostly because his brain won't stop- 

_Oh gods I actually want to fuck him except that I really can't think of anything more terrifying than that and I don't know what to **do** and I almost- I want to- is there- that is going to  **hurt** if I even consider it because everything else about him is huge and I- no no no can't do that definitely can't- _

_Oh. He looks worried._

_He's worried for me. He's... genuinely worried for me. He wants to help me. He... he cares. And he... oh._

_He... he wouldn't hurt me. He wouldn't make anything hurt. He'd... he'd make me feel good, wouldn't he?_

_No. That- that won't work. Goblins are **not** gentle. Doesn't matter whether or not he's been raised better, this is an instinctual thing. He can't- _

_Ohhh gods I should not want to do this and I **don't** except that I actually really do- _

_I do not understand this and I am terrified and I need help except that my source of help is what is **confusing** me. _

 

"Hey, hey... it's alright. You're fine. It's okay now." Sharpclaw whispers, then stretches out on his front, putting himself slightly below the wraith's eye level and resting his head on his arms. "Here, tell you what... I'm just gonna stretch out here and relax for a bit. There's shade, so 'm not gonna burn, and I'm comfy. You can lean on me, if you'd like, or you can just... keep being a little ball. Either one is good as long as you're comfortable." 

 

Okay. 

Oh wait hang on there is a Warg sniffing at him and that? That is not so okay. And then Gor shoves a very broad muzzle under him and lifts him up and tips him right onto Sharpclaw's back, and that is also  _not okay_ and he hisses and swats at the Warg to make that clear- 

And then he's sitting on Sharpclaw's back and he does not know what to do with that. Eyes very wide indeed, he trembles and huddles into a ball again, incredibly aware of every bit of contact with Sharpclaw and trying to decide what he wants to do with this. It- it feels- oh. Good. But not entirely good because now he's incredibly confused and he- 

 

"Woah, hey- Gor, no, shoo." Sharpclaw orders, waving a hand in Gor's direction, then looks over his shoulder at the wraith perched on his back. And he's blushing slightly as he does, probably because someone is sitting on his back and really more like straddling him. "Uh... hi. Evidently Gor is of the opinion that more contact will help. And, um... I'm fine with this if you are. You can... you can move, or... if you want, you can stay there." the hybrid offers softly, relaxing against the grass and plainly not minding this at all. "You're... really not that heavy. You could probably stand to gain a bit more mass, but for now, this is actually... heh, this is pretty comfortable." 

 

Um. 

_Um._

What is he supposed to do with this? Is he just supposed to sit here in a tiny ball and just be not on the ground, or- or is he- 

Okay, no, he- he knows what he wants. He wants to stretch out on Sharpclaw's back and relax. And he wants- 

Okay, he does know exactly what he wants from Sharpclaw. He's still not sure about some things, but he knows what he wants right now. 

 And it involves not wearing a shirt.

 

 

 

 

Sharpclaw gives a startled little noise at the contact of skin against skin, then glances over his shoulder back at the wraith, very surprised by the sight of his companion sprawled out along his back. He was not expecting that. "I- woah. Um... hi. Okay. You, uh... you comfy?" he asks softly, very aware of how much he's blushing, then smiles at an affirmative little click. "Okay then. I'm, uh- I'm good with this. You're... you're light. Really light, actually- I think you need to gain a little weight. A bit more muscle mass will do you some good. No rush on that, don't worry, just- might wanna eat a little bit more. Uh- my mom'll probably help with that, she's probably gonna take one look at you and offer you as much food as she'd normally give me. And, uh... I'm just gonna be quiet and let you relax now." he decides, relaxing and just closing his eyes in an attempt to maybe stop blushing. 

It doesn't last long, though, because then a gentle little hand is tracing along his shoulder. He knows why, there's a scar up there, and- and that means his companion is investigating him. Oh no. Too cute, far too cute. And, closed eyes or not, he is probably blushing now because  _oh no he's so cuuute_ and now he really wants to do the same with his slender companion. He- he wants to investigate. He wants to just very gently pick the wraith up and hold him close and run his fingertips over that soft grey skin and just try to make him feel nice- and not even anything sexual (though, haha, there are some thoughts about that as well), he just- just wants to touch and make his companion feel good and he- 

And now there's a hand tracing very gently along his side, fingertips running over a narrow scar along his ribcage, and- oh. Mmh. Okay that feels quite good and he- "Uh, sorry- can you not- um- n-not that scar? I don't mind the rest, go right ahead, j-just- that one's a bit sensitive." he whispers, and it's the truth- it's just not the  _kind_ of sensitive that he's suggesting. When the wraith quickly tugs away, he opens his eyes again and offers a reassuring little smile, trying to keep those little touches from going away. Those feel kinda nice, and oh no it's so adorable and he really wants to encourage this because  _you're opening up and it's awesome and I love this it's so cute._

And then those touches return, ever-so-gently, tentative little strokes and inquisitive touches along a scar down his upper arm and okay that feels pretty good. And- and maybe he should explain, encourage that a bit more. "That's, uh- I fell out of a tree when I was little and tore my arm open on a branch. That used to be huge. And the one on my shoulder is from a training accident- someone got me with an axe. Dulled axe, but still. That one down on my ribs is from a thing with some goblins. Also the other ones on my ribs. Except the claws on my front, that, uh- Gor brought me a bobcat that was playing dead and it turned out to not be dead. Which also explains the ones on my forearms- they're under the bracers. And, uh- those couple under your stomach are from something that I honestly do not remember. I've only ever gotten really drunk once, and that is mostly because- well, hangovers suck. But also because the one time I got stupid drunk I woke up with my back torn open and stitched back together quite poorly. Blue thread, I'm told. Ma did a lot of ranting about the idiot responsible while she was patching me up. And- and that one right there, that one your hand is on- uh- actually, can you keep doing that? It's a bit stiff. Feels- kinda good. Oh, there, like that. Thanks. That's, uh- that one is also goblins. Or an orc. Don't remember. I've been hit about there twice, and I don't know which one scarred and which one- oh, mmn.  _That._ That is awesome. 

_He's being cute and touching me and and I'm getting a bit of a massage out of this and it feels pretty good and oh no he's so **adorable.** This is kind of awesome but I should probably be careful not to end up too interested because uuugh that will get very awkward._

 And then there's another hand gently parting his hair over the back of his neck and just lightly touching, inspecting gently, and oh yesss please. "That's- mmh- that is from a short goblin who did not like me and decided to stand on a roof and throw things. I... spent about a month dealing with a gang of people who were just not very nice and really did not appreciate me getting between them and trader caravans and  _please_ don't stop doing that it feels really good." 

 _Oops. Probably shouldn't have blurted that out. Heh._ "Uh, sorry, I- I'm just gonna be quiet now." 

 

 

 

 

_He... he likes this?_

_Oh gods what am I supposed to do with this he's feeling good and this is not something that I do I don't make people feel good I **hurt** people and ohhh is he purring? I don't- what do I do with- oh gods. _

And he still has no idea what to do, but Sharpclaw is relaxing under his hands and he doesn't know what to do but obviously he's doing  _something_ right and when he gets a look at the rather blissful expression on Sharpclaw's face it makes his chest start fluttering and okay that feels very weird but it's not a bad kind of weird and he- 

He is still so confused, so very confused, but it's confusion over something good, and... and this actually feels nice. Sharpclaw is so relaxed and  _he's_ the one responsible and that feels so very  _good-_

_I still have no idea what I'm doing, but it seems to be working._

_I should keep doing this until I figure out what else to do._

_Should definitely keep doing this._

_Sharpclaw is feeling good and I really like it and I am not about to stop._

 

And he doesn't stop for awhile, probably something along the lines of an hour. Eventually his hands get a bit tired, and then the rest of him gets tired, and then he falls asleep on top of Sharpclaw. And it is very, very comfortable. Mmm. 

 

 

 

 

_He's asleep._

_Oh gods that's so adorable._

_He's asleep curled up on top of me and oh noo it's so precious and aiiigh I don't know what to DO with this- oh gods._

This really wasn't helping his desire to touch. He just-  _no no no I can't touch him like that without his permission it'll scare him and I cannot scare him like that because he's so cute and he's actually starting to want to touch me and I cannot risk pushing that away. I really, really want to, though... I really want to make him feel good. And... oh, okay, yeah, if I'm being honest with myself, I- I kinda want to try- ah-_

_Yeah, no. That's not going to happen. I'd just really scare him if I asked, and I... wouldn't know what to do with him even if he didn't just run. I mean, okay, I do know, but I- I'm pretty sure foreplay is really important in this situation and I have absolutely no idea what I'd be doing. I'd... I'd just end up hurting him._

_Unless I let him-_

Aaand he either needs to stop this train of thought or go stand in the river because otherwise something is going to happen that will be very awkward and will also prevent him from comfortably lying on his front. He really doesn't want to get up, so he'll just think about- uh- plans. Travel plans. Best way to get to his mama's house. 

Maybe he'll just think about how exactly he's going to introduce the wraith to his mama. Much more wholesome line of thought. 

 

 

That's not what was supposed to happen. Gor blinks and tilts his head, surveying the two, then whines inquiringly at his Alpha. Wraith smelled like interested, and then Alpha stretched out on front, so- so he thought mating was going to happen. Except that isn't happening, even though Alpha smells a little bit like interested, so- so why- 

Edging closer, Gor snuffles at his Alpha's side for a moment, then whines and noses at the waistband of the pants that his Alpha insists on wearing. He knows why- Alpha gets all hot and red and unhappy when stays without clothes too long. Not sure why, maybe sun? Maybe sun is ouch. But now is not time for pants. Now is time for mates. Yes? Maybe if pants are out of the way? Wraith did not like when Gor tried to help with pants, and wraith is asleep anyway, but- maybe Gor can get Alpha to sit and relax and get pants off and then wake wraith up? Yes. Wraith is skinny and small and frightened, but- but Alpha is calm and not mean or angry and maybe wraith can mount? Yes, yes. Keep wraith calm and happy that way. Won't scare. No need to be scared when on top, yes? Yes. 

Satisfied with his plan, Gor thumps his tail on the ground a couple of times, then makes the most calming noise he can manage (it's a weird little croon that might be calming to pups) and manages to get ahold of the waistband of Sharpclaw's pants. Tugging slightly, he whines in the most coaxing manner he can manage, then waves his tail and eyes Sharpclaw with a rather hopeful look. Yes? Wraith is scared and upset and making Sharpclaw upset and that's bad but this can make happy again, so- yes? 

 

 

"Gor-"  _what the hell-_

Sharpclaw tenses up, then, concerned that he'll wake or frighten the slender being sleeping on his back, forces himself to relax. He doesn't entirely relax, though, and he aims an elbow in the direction of Gor's head. "Gor, no, I don't need you to-"  _ohhh THAT'S what he's up to. Oh. Oh gods no. I do not need- **brain no-**_

"Gor, no, boy- no. I don't want-" Sharpclaw pauses, then sighs, a resigned tone in his voice as he talks to his Warg companion. "You know what? Actually, yeah, I kinda do. I'd kinda just like to- to find somewhere comfortable and nice and- and  _no_ I am not doing this, Gor. I guess you kinda want us to, but it's a lot more complicated than just 'we don't hate each other' for people. People are complicated. I guess you don't really get that, but- yeah. People are very complicated. So, I... I can't. I shouldn't. I really can't, he'll freak out if I offer. I just... if I ever wanna offer, I should really wait like- two months or something, I don't know. I don't know how much he trusts me or how long people are supposed to wait for that kind of thing or- y'know what? I don't even know how not to hurt him. And... this is not the kind of thing I can ask Ma about. Well- I guess I can ask her about-" pausing again, he blushes quite deeply, then sighs and shakes his head as he watches Gor. "Sure. 'Hey, Ma, how long am I supposed to know someone for before I decide to sleep with them? Because I found this guy hiding under a tree and he's actually really cute aaand yeah I definitely like guys now'. Because I could ever say that to anybody who actually understands me without ending up just hiding my face in my hands. You don't understand me, so this really isn't the same thing aaand I really, really, really hope he isn't awake now and he's just moving because he's dreaming." 

And... okay, his companion isn't freaking out, so evidently he's still asleep. Good. "Gor, puppy, asleep or not I really shouldn't be discussing this near him. I'm just... I can't risk scaring him, yeah? I don't want to scare him, don't want to make him think I'm going to try something. I mean- honestly? Yeah. I'd like to. I just... I can't scare him like that. He'll probably think I'm going to force him into something, and I- I just- I'd never do that. I won't make him do anything, I won't. And that's not what I want, anyway, I- I want to make him feel  _good,_ I don't want to scare him. And you don't really understand any of this, do you?" the half-goblin chuckles, looking up at Gor from his spot on the ground. Gor is watching him with a tilted head and perked ears and slightly concerned eyes, but the Warg is probably understanding maybe three words out of this whole conversation. 

 

 

No? No mating? 

Okay then. Maybe later. Maybe just- just calm scared wraith and then very gently put together. Yes? Or, hm- how do things with two legs decide to find mates? More complicated than with Wargs, yes? 

Resting his chin on his paws, Gor thumps his tail slowly on the ground, searching his little doggy brain for what he should be doing. How- hmm. He knows what humans do, he's seen. They give foods and bright plants and then- then they- 

 _Oh._ Slow. Gentle, slow, soft touches and gentle gentle gentle touches and kisses and nuzzles and then slowww and soft and soothing. So many gentle touches. Maybe- maybe that's why wraith got scared? Too fast? 

So... get wraith calm and happy and then steal Alpha's pants. He stole pants once before and Alpha just laughed and was fine, so- yes. Steal pants. And maybe under-pants. Just quiet, though- maybe wait for Alpha to take bath. Yes. Yes, plan. Definitely. Should work, yes? Yes. 

But later. 

 

 

 

 

The wraith sleeps soundly for a few hours, only occasionally twitching and making unhappy little sounds, and finally wakes up when his back starts to get too hot. Well- he squirms around in an attempt to escape the heat, and he ends up falling off of Sharpclaw's back and waking himself up. Confused, the wraith stares up at thin air for a moment, then blinks and churrs. Hello? 

 

Roused from a light doze, Sharpclaw mutters something unintelligible, then sits up and looks down at the wraith. "Oh, hey... you fell asleep. So did I, I guess. You, uh... you feeling better?" he whispers, then smiles when his companion edges a bit closer to him. "I'll take that as a yes, then? Good. So, uh... guess we should probably get going. Oh, one thing, though. I, uh... I need to know if there's anything around here I have to be aware of, so I have to talk to people. And the best place to do that is at the closest thing to a bar that you can find. Now, I've been to the one here, and... I don't think it'll be too bad. There are a few corner tables that are curtained off, and a couple with dividers, so you can just relax and watch people without anyone seeing. I'll sit nearby and talk to people, and... nobody will see you. Okay? Nobody will bother you, I promise. I'll make sure of that. We can come in the side door, too. Does that sound good?" 

 

No. Not good. Definitely not good. He doesn't want to be anywhere with a lot of people, especially not a bar- that means people, and drunk people. No. He's not going to do that. 

Except that Sharpclaw is clearly going to go and do this, and he doesn't want to be here alone, and he doesn't want to be here with nothing but the Warg. He just- just wants- he wants to stay with Sharpclaw and be  _safe_ and not be alone and scared and- and keep slipping back into a nightmare, and-

And if Sharpclaw leaves him alone he's not going to have anything to keep him from  _hurting_ himself again and he doesn't particularly enjoy that but he needs to keep the screams  _away_ because otherwise he'll probably just start screaming himself. And then he'll attract wolves. Or goblins. Or orcs. And none of those things are good. Well- the wolves might be a bit interesting if Gor is around. He'd actually kinda like to see what would happen if Gor found a pack of wolves- they'd barely come up to his chest, and the Warg would probably try to play with them. That could actually be entertaining. 

But no. Being left alone to either injure himself or gradually drive himself insane does not sound nice. So... 

Reluctantly standing up, he nods slightly and blinks at Sharpclaw, then picks up his shirt and quickly puts it back on when he realizes that he isn't wearing it. Should probably wear this. For one thing, it has a hood that he can hide under.

 

"Thank you. I know you don't want to do this, so I'll try to be quick. C'mon- we don't need the cart, we can just get Gor to carry us. He walks a lot faster than either of us without that cart strapped on." Sharpclaw chuckles, then drowsily wanders over to the cart to get his shirt back, humming softly to himself and clearly not quite awake yet. "And they have some really tasty drinks. Best mead I've ever had- and it won't get ya drunk, either. No alcohol. You can sit in the corner with a drink and I'll make sure everybody leaves you alone... shouldn't be too bad." he declares, then pats Gor's neck, coaxing the Warg to lie down. "Here- climb on. He doesn't need a saddle, his fur is thick enough. You might be able to fit between his shoulder blades, or you can probably sit right in front of his shoulders- he won't mind, he's strong. Just find somewhere comfortable." the half-goblin coaxes, then swings a leg over and seats himself just behind Gor's shoulders. "I'm gonna sit here. Don't worry too much about falling off- at worst, you'll tip onto me." 

 

Okay then. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he looks Gor over for a moment, then slowly approaches and cautiously grips the thick-strapped leather harness. After a minute to figure out exactly what he plans to do (even lying down, Gor's back is at least four feet off the ground, and fur is not great for climbing on), he pulls himself up and sits between the Warg's shoulders- for about two seconds. The second Gor starts to stand up, he's pressed right back up against Sharpclaw. 

Oh. 

Okay then. 

Evidently he'll be sitting in Sharpclaw's lap. 

He can live with this. And, hey- he can reach to the side, nab the edge of Sharpclaw's cloak, and hide under it. And he immediately does that, of course, tucking himself back and hiding and trying to be somewhere comfortable. It works, too, mostly because he can't be seen. 

 

Doesn't mean he isn't tense when they get into town. Gor jogs the entire way, so he doesn't have much time to brace himself, and- and it's getting dark but even then he can see people looking at them because of  _course_ they're looking and they- they're going to-

He can't keep himself calm. He tries, but he really can't, and he's nearly shaking by the time they get to the little bar. It helps a little bit that the attention mostly stays on Gor, who ends up sitting outside and happily watching everyone, but- but there are still people  _looking_ at him and he really doesn't like that at all. He doesn't feel good. He really doesn't feel very good, and the roiling in his stomach only gets worse when he realizes that there are quite a few people in here and quite a few of them look over at him when they walk through the door. 

His anxiety calms a bit when he's coaxed over to a table that's nicely hidden in the corner, and it helps a bit that he can sit here and be mostly invisible. And, okay, watching people from somewhere mostly unseen has always been fun, but- but then he's- 

Then Sharpclaw walks away to get something and he's alone and yes maybe Sharpclaw is right over there but he's seen people killed without ever making a sound and anyone who watched him come in knows where he is and if they don't like him then he's just about defenseless and- and he- he's- 

He does not like this. 

 

He does start calming down, eventually. After the initial staring, everyone is seemingly more focused on whatever they were doing before than on him, and... hm. He's actually fine. He's still a bit nervous, but he's okay, and this place is kind of interesting. Mostly because he can listen to all the people. 

Aaand one of said people is coming over. It's a woman, so... probably not someone who intends to hurt him? Except among Elves, where there isn't really that much of a difference between the sexes, soldiers are usually men. Women can kill, so he's wary, but... that is not an angry or threatening look. That... that is a hungry look. He does not like that look. 

He likes it even less when the woman sits down right next to him. 

 

The woman eyes him for a moment, looking him up and down like a hungry bobcat watching a wounded goat, then edges closer and places a hand on his thigh. "I see you sitting here on your own, cutie... you want some company?" 

 

No. 

No, he does not want some company. Well- someone nice and harmless, maybe, but- but not someone whose first action is to start  _touching_ him. Nervously eyeing the intruder, he edges away and presses himself further into the corner, but he doesn't hiss- he doesn't want to act threatening. And he doesn't stare, either- he stares down at the table instead, hunching into himself and trembling and trying to nonviolently protest this because  _he does not like being touched-_

And evidently this woman either doesn't realize that or doesn't care because she just pushes closer and corners him and he's  _caught_ and he can't get  _away_ and is his panicked whimpering not proof enough that he wants this to stop?

Or apparently she doesn't care and maybe he should just be quiet because sometimes rapists like it when their targets whimper and- 

And why is he choosing that word here? It's- it's not- that's not what's happening here, is it? No, because women can't- can't be-

Except that he really can't think of any other word for what's happening because he doesn't  _want_ this but it's- it's definitely- 

Whimpering softly in panic and unable to quite restrain the sounds, the wraith presses himself into the corner as far as possible, hunching himself into a tiny ball and pressing his legs together in a desperate attempt to escape the touches- 

 

"Shh, cutie... no one's going to notice if you just keep quiet. Sh-h-hhh... I won't hurt you. I'm gonna make you feel good, cutie... just relax." 

 

_No no no no no- please don't- please._

_I don't want this._

_Please._

_Please stop._


	16. Bar scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a short period of self-blaming by our poor scared wraith.

His panicked signals are not working. If anything, he's encouraging this woman- she has just climbed  _into his lap_ and he doesn't want this and he especially does  _not_ want to be- 

_Take your hands off me stop **touching** me I don't  **want** this- _

_Can't run nowhere to run can't fight make them mad get hurt don't fight don't fight don't fight can't fight can't **move** can't  **get away-**_

_Help me-_

_If I fight they'll see a threat and hurt me hurt me worse than she will and I can't run can't get away **I can't make this stop-**_

And then the aggressor's hand slips under his waistband and he can't quite stop a panicked little shrill and he's  _trying_ to press his legs together and  _stop_ her but it isn't quite working-

_Sharpclaw-_

**_Help me-_ **

**_Please help me-_ **

 

"Hey, I got you something to ea- woah." Sharpclaw freezes halfway through the curtain, then steps fully inside, setting a bowl and a mug down on the table and going from a relaxed pose to a stance that makes him loom over the two beings on the seat. "Hey. I really don't think he wants you to- what the  _Hell_ are you doing?" he growls, stepping closer and outright glaring down at the being who is currently making his companion look very, very unhappy. "Get your hands  _off_ of him." the hybrid orders, looking like he's about a millisecond away from outright picking the woman up and very firmly putting her down elsewhere. 

 

The unfortunate wraith  _whimpers_ in a wordless plea for help, begging Sharpclaw to please  _make her stop,_ then nearly sobs in relief when the (clearly intimidated) woman jerks away and stops  _touching_ him. He still can't move, though, he just- he's- 

He can't move again and it's terrifying and she's not  _gone_ yet but he wants her to  _leave-_ he's _s_ _cared-_

 

Ignoring the attempt at a protest (something about "wasn't going to hurt him", he really doesn't care), Sharpclaw just glares down at the culprit until she finally gets up and leaves. It's not a threat, but his teeth are showing when he speaks and he's clearly not being friendly. Frankly, he's  _mad,_ but most of the people here don't know him and he's not about to risk making someone think that he's a threat. Too dangerous for both him and his terrified companion. He'll just scare her off, make it very clear that this  _will_ _not_ be allowed to happen again, and then- then try to comfort his companion.

The second she's gone, Sharpclaw sits down on the bench, though he doesn't get too close to the wraith- he leaves a couple of feet of space. "Hey, are- are you- okay, no, you don't look so okay. So... here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to scoot over and put an arm around you, okay? Now... if you want me to stop, I need you to tell me. I'm not going to hurt you, I'm just... going to try to calm you down." he croons, slowly edging a bit closer and very gently putting an arm around the wraith. He sets his hand firmly on the bench rather than on his trembling companion, though, he's- he's not forcing anything. He's just trying to offer a bit of contact. "There... see? This is all I'm going to do unless you want anything more." he whispers, then reaches over and pulls the curtain entirely closed, trying to offer a bit of a shield. 

 

Heart racing, the wraith  _whimpers_ and presses himself up against Sharpclaw's side, his hands tightly gripping the larger being's shirt. Trembling all over, he shuts his eyes and just shudders for a moment, fighting back the urge to just start sobbing. Gods, he- he's- 

He's terrified and why couldn't he  _move_ why didn't he just try to  _run_ try to  _fight_ try to do anything other than just sit there and  _let_ himself be-

And what is he so upset about, anyway? That wasn't dangerous, it wasn't painful, it- it probably would have felt kinda good if he'd just  _relaxed,_ and maybe he didn't really want to be touched like that but he wasn't in any danger and he's- he's just- 

Why is he so  _scared?_ He's  _fine._ He's perfectly fine and he shouldn't be so upset and he's a  _coward_ for being so  _scared._

He should probably just- just stop. Biting his lip, the wraith shudders all over and forces himself to sit up straight, trying to rein in every visible bit of fear. He's  _pathetic_ and he should just  _stop_ before Sharpclaw gets upset. 

 

"Hey, hey... it's okay." Sharpclaw whispers, then very gently pulls him just a bit closer, holding him as softly as possible and seemingly trying to be soothing. "Easy... it's okay. You can be upset if you want... you have a very good reason to be upset. That was not okay. And, hey... why didn't you let me know that something was wrong? I'm really sorry, I got a bit distracted, but- I was right over there, you could have let me know. It is not okay for people to touch you without permission, and that was a lot more than just touching. That was  _really_ not an okay thing for her to be doing... and, really, you would have been well within your rights to hiss at her and swat her hand away and just  _make_ her stop." 

 

Yes yes he  _knows_ that but he  _didn't_ and that is  _pathetic_ and there was  _no reason_ for him not to  _do_ something and he is  _pathetic._ Curling into a tiny ball up against Sharpclaw's side, the wraith chokes back another sob, trying to just-

_Just shut up and stop acting so **scared** there is nothing wrong- _

He shouldn't be this  _scared,_ he's  _fine._ Except that he's- he- his heart is racing and he can't quite catch his breath and he's  _terrified_ no matter how utterly  _illogical_ it is- 

 

"Hey, hey- it's okay. You're okay. She's gone. And, uh..." Sharpclaw pauses for a moment, then speaks very softly, evidently trying his best to be soothing. "It's okay if you don't want to, I'll understand, but... d'you wanna come here and tuck yourself under my cloak and get comfy?" he asks, lightly patting a spot on his leg, then smiles when the wraith slowly edges closer. "There you go... it's okay. I'm just going to hold you for a little while, alright? You can let me know if you want to stop, though... I'm not gonna touch you if you don't want me to. You're allowed to have boundaries, and I want you to tell me if I'm pushing any of them." 

After a moment of consideration, he slowly takes one of his frightened companion's hands, humming very gently to him. "Hey... it's alright. You can be upset. And... it's alright that you froze up. That's a valid response to something that scares you. I'm not sure how I would have reacted, honestly, but... yeah, I probably wouldn't have known what to do either. It's alright, really... so you can stop looking like you did something wrong, you didn't. You're okay. That was an entirely valid response... nothing to be ashamed of. Now, here... I got you some mead. No alcohol or anything in it, it just tastes nice." Sharpclaw croons, picking up the mug and very gently offering it to the slender being curled up in his lap. "Just have a taste." 

 

He's- no, he- 

This is- 

But he- 

He didn't- 

Valid? That- that was a valid response? It- 

Well, he- he would have gotten in trouble if he tried to fight, a lot of trouble, and- and he was cornered and it's a bit difficult to run with someone's hand down one's pants so he couldn't have gotten away and- 

And Sharpclaw said earlier that- that people sometimes freeze if they don't see another option, and- 

Oh. 

Okay.

Maybe he- maybe that made sense. And... that drink does smell pretty good. Blinking, the wraith just stares at the proffered mug, then slowly wraps his hands around it and somewhat cautiously takes a sip. He's not certain what he's expecting, but- 

Oh.  _Yum._ Surprised, the wraith gives a muffled trill, then tilts the mug back to take a much bigger sip. Okay, yes. This is very, very good. 

 

"There you go. Now... I thought you might like something to eat, so I also got you some stew. The recipe's secret, so I'm not entirely certain what it's made of, but it's really good. You'll like it." Sharpclaw whispers, then chuckles softly in mild surprise at how fast his companion is drinking. "You're thirsty, huh? Slow down a bit, okay? Enjoy it. Nobody's going to take that away- I'm not gonna let 'em. And I don't think anybody's going to try, anyway. Just relax... you're safe. I'm really sorry I wasn't here, but... I'm here now. I have you." 

_I shouldn't have left him alone. She really scared him, and- and that can't have been pleasant at all. And now he's gonna be even more convinced that sex is scary, so I shouldn't- can't-_

**_No._ ** _No no no. I will not do that. I will not make this about me and my own desires. I will not._

_I just- people really seem to like that sort of thing, and I- I want to-_

_I wanna make him feel good, and- and that-_

_No. I am not going to do this. Just- just going to focus on helping him calm down. And be sure she doesn't come back. Also think of a good way to explain this, if I end up with someone demanding to know why I chased her off- hopefully that won't happen, though, it'll probably scare him. I'll just- just be gentle. Very gentle. Don't touch him without permission, don't nuzzle at him, let him decide what he wants. And- and wait. If he relaxes, if he starts seeming calm and like maybe he isn't scared, then- then I might try. Just a tiny bit. I don't even know if he's- if he'd be interested at all. So- gotta give him at least a couple of months. Wait and let him calm down and decide what he wants. And, for all I know, he likes girls. That does seem to be more common, so..._

_So I'm not even gonna suggest anything. I'm gonna shut up and not say anything unless he actually starts acting like he might- might want to-_

_Nnh._

 

After a minute more, the wraith slowly puts the mug back, somewhat calmed by the sweet taste and the fact that his stomach has something in it. After a moment to eye the stew and basically just size it up, he settles into a more comfortable position, curled up against Sharpclaw and managing to perch his skinny little self on the larger man's thigh. He then reaches for the bowl, but somewhat to his surprise, Sharpclaw picks it up for him and holds it where he can easily reach. Oh. Okay, that's... a little bit like being fed, but... okay. Sure. He'll take this. 

After a few minutes more, though, someone opens the curtain a bit. Nope, nope- he doesn't want this to happen, doesn't want to be bothered by- 

By a fairly unaggressive-looking person whose... whose gender he cannot identify. He can't help but curl into himself a bit as he eyes the new person, but... he's really more- more confused than anything else. Who is- what- 

Okay, he's not sure what to make of this. He's reasonably certain that this person belongs here, he saw them behind the counter earlier, but... who is this and why can't he figure out if they're male or female? 

 

The new person raises their hands slightly, trying to seem nonthreatening, and they don't sit down. "Sorry, just- just came over to see if you were okay. She does that- goes up to anyone who's sitting alone and looks a bit lost and starts offering them company. Doesn't tend to respect a no- she seems to think that she's doing people a favor no matter what they think. She's on the other side of the room glaring at the curtains... don't think she'll be back. You okay?" they ask softly, looking directly at the wraith but not stepping any closer. 

 

"I think he's alright." Sharpclaw hums, then leans down to speak very gently in the wraith's pointed ears. "Remy. Works here. Good person." he soothes, setting the stew down and very gently taking his hand instead. "Sorry, Remy, he doesn't really talk. Pretty shy, too- it's not just you. And, uh... he's pretty shaken, but yeah, I think he's okay. Kinda hard to tell sometimes. And, uh... if she keeps doing this, why do you let her in? I mean- that's not okay, for her to be doing that. It's really just not." he sighs, shaking his head slightly and glancing over in the indicated direction.

 

"Honestly? Because she usually goes home with the bartender if there's no one around that interests her, or some of the other people around here. They tend to like her, and there's some that claim she isn't hurting anybody. I disagree, but... men. Thinkin' with the wrong heads." Remy sighs, then glances over towards the door of the bar at a yell in Orcish. "That's them again. Couple of orcs. No need t' get up- they're loud and a bit lacking in manners, but they're decent folk. Tip well, always have big appetites, an' don't intentionally bother anyone or grab a' me. I like 'em. I'm gonna go over there, you two lemme know if you need anythin'. Also lemme know if you'd rather I just give you some privacy, eh?" they chuckle, then step back and close the curtains, evidently off to go wait on the orcs- who were now calling for drinks in a loud but fairly cheerful tone. They didn't sound threatening, just enthusiastic and maybe a bit rowdy.

 

Nooope. Friendly or not, he is not going to be here around Orcs- they might recognize him. Giving an unhappy little hiss, he slips backwards and hides in the space right next to Sharpclaw, tucking himself under the thick cloak and out of sight. He's going to hide back here and close his eyes and just be safe. And- and apparently be offered the stew. Okay. He'll... sure. He'll hide back here and eat stew. Mostly because this is very good stew. And also good mead. He's just... going to sit here and have a nice meal. And be invisible. And just quietly pray that nobody comes after them. 

 

 

Once he's done with his meal, he chirps softly and blinks up at Sharpclaw, then glances over towards the door and  _trills_ pleadingly. He wants to go. He really just- just wants to go. Please. Wants to go somewhere safe. Wants to be away from people. Please? Can- can he just- please? Can they- can they leave? Maybe go back to where the forest is and just leave? Or- or anywhere that's not here?  _Please?_ There are people here who either don't like him at all or like him  _far_ too much, and he's scared. He wants to go and be safe. 

Is that okay? 

 

"You're done? Alright. I, uh... I'm definitely not leaving you alone, and I've learned what I need to know, so we can leave. Now... I'd like to walk out the front door, if we can. Gor is out front. Those orcs sound like they're off towards the side, and you can stay up against my side if you want. I don't think anybody's going to stare at you, they all sound like they're havin' a good time. So... let's just walk out, okay? Nice and calm. Nobody's going to hurt you, and I don't think anybody's going to stare at you." Sharpclaw hums, then slowly stands up, careful not to just tip him off. "Here you go... tuck up against me, alright?" he croons, then smiles when his companion slowly does so. "There we go. Now... we're just going to walk out of here, hop on Gor, and get outta town. We'll head up north a bit more, then there's a gap in the mountains that should be fairly easy to get through. We're gonna have to do some hunting first, just in case we run into snow- Gor eats a lot and can't hunt very well in mountains. I have some snares, or- have you ever gone hunting for red deer?" 

 

He... doesn't know. If he has, he can't remember. So he shakes his head just a little bit, shrugging, and he tries to stay calm as he walks right next to Sharpclaw. He doesn't look around- he locks his eyes directly ahead and keeps them that way, forcing himself not to look around. He knows he'll start to panic if he sees if anyone is looking, so he stares ahead and tries to convince himself that he is not being stared at. He's fine. He's just going to  _walk._

 

"No? Well, you can come if you'd like. I doubt you'd be able to draw my bow, but I might have a crossbow somewhere, and you're real quiet. Bet you could sneak up on somethin' edible. We can start you out on squirrels- they taste good if you know how to cook 'em, and the pelts are useful. Squirrels have really tough hides for their size. Plus- honestly, it's kinda fun. There's always a burst of triumph when you manage to hit one of those li'l things. I can show you how to skin it, too, just- uh- you can't keep the knife. Not for now. Sorry." Sharpclaw whispers, then smiles a bit more when he feels a delicate little hand wrap around his fingers. Oh no. Oh so cute. It's not good that the poor thing needs comfort, but- but it's- 

_Oh gods he's so **cute** doing this. _

They manage to get out the door just fine, and that delicate little hand on his doesn't let go or tighten. And they're okay, they're doing just fine, and then he feels the wraith's hand tighten and  _oh._ There's that woman again. And no one is around here to glare at him, and he's still very mad, and his companion is  _shaking_ up against him and something has to be done about that. 

 

_No._

Suddenly terrified, he presses up against Sharpclaw's side and clings tightly to the hybrid's hand, shaking all over and staring out at the woman who tried- tried to- 

Dammit maybe she wasn't about to physically hurt him but it  _scared_ him what she was trying and he-

He's afraid. He wants to be safe, he wants to be away from people who try to do things to him against his will, he wants- 

Honestly, he wants to go and just be somewhere with Sharpclaw, because- because his companion is  _safe_ and  _gentle_ and keeps doing things like asking if it's okay to  _touch_ and it- it makes him feel good and safe and nice and like he's  _okay._

 

Sharpclaw very gently squeezes his companion's hand, then lets go, and- evidently he's been slouching this entire time because he's suddenly a good few inches taller. Baring a set of very pointed teeth at the woman, he slowly stalks closer, pausing about a foot away and  _glaring_ down at her. "I didn't do anything before because I didn't want to start a fight, but that does  _not_ mean that I am not  _angry."_

 

Clearly intimidated, the woman takes a step back, then squares her shoulders and attempts to hold her ground. "What- you angry that I got my hands on him? You wanna keep him to yourself, huh? He your little  _fuck-toy?"_

 

Wrong thing to say, clearly. Sharpclaw _growls,_ then crouches again- except this time he's looming over someone who is nearly two feet shorter than him and probably half his weight, and his eyes are narrowed and his teeth are bared and he looks almost  _predatory._ "If you  _ever_ come near him again, I  _will_ hurt you. I do not care that you're smaller than me. I do not like  _rapists,_ and that is what you are. I will  _not_ let you or  _anyone else_ treat him like that. And that is because he is my  _friend,_ not because he is my  _possession._ I am not angry at you for touching something that is mine, because he is  _not_ mine. I am angry at you for touching someone like that against their will. I am angry at you for upsetting my friend, and I am angry at you for however many times you've done that in the past, because that is  _not okay._ Now- we are leaving. I don't know if we'll come back through here. But, if we do, you are  _not_ going to come near him again. And- you know what? You need to stop doing that to people. I don't care if you think you're doing them a favor- if someone does not want to be touched like that,  _you do not touch them._ Now... leave." he orders, pointing away from them, and he doesn't stop  _glaring_ until she's gone. She doesn't leave slowly, either- for obvious reasons. 

 

 _Oh._ He- he just- 

Ohhh dear. 

He has a moment to be a little bit worried (and, actually, insulted) by the "fuck-toy" comment, and then Sharpclaw is being  _protective_ and referring to him as a  _friend_ and-

Aaand evidently his body is of the opinion that protectiveness is a very attractive trait. Oh dear. He's, uh- just going to- uh- 

He's going to climb onto Gor's back and sit here and hope that maybe the Warg's short little spine-mane will let him- let him, um- hide. So he can, ah- think about this without being incredibly flustered. Because he- he really needs to think about this. Does he- does he want- well, apparently he  _does_ want, or at least some of him wants, except that he doesn't want to- 

Sharpclaw is protecting him and calling him a  _friend_ and now coming over to see if he's okay, and- and the hybrid isn't touching without permission, is just holding out a hand and asking very softly and then  _smiling,_ genuinely smiling, when he signals that he's okay, and then that threatening look is entirely gone and he's just friendly and gentle and  _safe_ and- 

And ohhh this is not helping his  _interest._

 

"Hey, hey... you're alright. It's okay, I promise... she's not gonna come near you again." Sharpclaw croons, very gently taking his hands, then sighs and carefully meets his eyes. "And, hey- what she said? T-that's not why I have you here. I'm... I won't touch you without your permission. I promise. I- I happen to think people should get more respect than that. Now... let's get outta here, huh?" he coaxes, then lets go of the wraith's hands and pulls himself up onto Gor's back. "Alright, boy- up." 

 

Riiight he's going to spend the ride back pressed against Sharpclaw. Or- or maybe he can hold on a bit better. Grabbing two handfuls of Warg fur, he braces himself as Gor stands up, then relaxes slightly when it works. Now there's a little bit of space between him and Sharpclaw, and he can still hide in Gor's ruff, just- it's just- 

_Gods help me I don't know what to DO._

_I don't want to do **that** but I- well, apparently part of me does, and- and I- _

 

 

An image flickers unbidden through his mind, a  _very_ explicit image of himself and Sharpclaw and  _that is not helping._ He- he actually wants- 

_He wouldn't- wouldn't like that. Dominant. Would want to be on top. He- he wouldn't want me to- to do- he wouldn't enjoy it. And- and I'd probably hurt him, and I- I don't-_

_No. Bad. Bad thoughts. BAD. Can't do that. Need to stop thinking that._

Growling very softly to himself, the wraith digs his fingernails into his arm, trying to banish the thought- then whines slightly in pain when Gor hops over something and the movement jars his injured hips. 

 

"Hey, hey... what's wrong?" Sharpclaw croons, then very slowly puts an arm around his companion, tugging him just a bit closer and hugging him. "Easy. You're safe, I promise. I've got you." he whispers, then pauses, evidently coming to a realization. "Or... do I need to stop touching you? I can get off and jog, if you want... would you like that? I can give you some space." the hybrid offers, then just slips off of Gor's back when he nods slightly. "Got it. You just stay up there and try to relax... I'm good." he soothes, easily keeping pace with Gor and not showing any signs of effort despite the fairly rapid pace.

 

That's... that's nice of him. The wraith blinks, looking down at Sharpclaw (actually down- Gor is quite large and he's actually taller than Sharpclaw like this) for a moment, then slowly straightens up a bit and just- just relaxes. He actually doesn't want to stop the touches, he like it, he's just so  _confused_ and he needs some time to figure this out. And also to stop wanting  _that,_ because- because it might actually feel good and he might enjoy it but Sharpclaw wouldn't and he doesn't want to  _hurt_ Sharpclaw. And he- he's just- 

He  _wants_ something that he really shouldn't want, and he needs to  _stop_ wanting this because he's- he can't  _have_ that and he'll  _scare_ Sharpclaw at best and at worst he'll either hurt his companion or- or end up giving the wrong idea and being held and  _pinned_ and- 

And he still wants, he  _wants,_ but he can't- 

_I'm sorry. I can't help it._

_I'm so sorry._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor confused wraith would actually sorta like to do naked things with Sharpclaw, except he doesn't realize that it's entirely possible for men to have sex and actually have it be enjoyable for both people involved. All of his (remembered) sexual experience consists of watching goblins and orcs and the like, and that is not helpful for understanding consensual relations.  
> Which means he's under the impression that the things he'd like to do are things he should be ashamed of wanting. That's not going to be helpful.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh... there's some self-loathing in this chapter. Also misconceptions. Also some confusion related to certain desires.  
> Basically, issues continue to be had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the short chapter, the muse really just does not like this bit. More interesting things up ahead.  
> Warnings for shame. A fairly considerable amount of shame. Also some very unwanted arousal. Poor upset spook.

It takes him quite awhile to calm down. 

By the time he's managed to quiet the whirling storm of his thoughts, they're back at the little campsite, and he's sitting on Gor's back in a tiny ball of upset. When he manages to calm down enough to stop shaking and digging his nails into various parts of himself, he slips off of Gor's back, then whimpers softly in pain and staggers at a stab of pain from each hip. Ow. Okay, that hurts. A lot. And he's starting to regret doing this, except that- that it- that it makes the screams stop and the stabs of pain help with the  _guilt_ and he- he's- 

He's  _sorry_ and he doesn't want to hurt but he needs the screams to go away and he really just wants to stop- 

 

"Hey, hey... it's okay. I got you." Sharpclaw croons, very gently catching him before his staggering can turn into anything worse, then scoops him up and just cradles him. "Easy. You're still hurting, huh? I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do for you? Maybe- uh- okay, I don't know how you'll feel about this, but I do have something that can help ease pain a bit if you rub it into wounds. I... don't think you want me doing that, though. I mean... if you'd like me to, I'm fine with it, but- I'm guessing you'd rather not have me touching your hips."  _now hush up before you scare him or make him think you're going to try something._

 

Sharpclaw... touching his... hips? He's... really not sure what he thinks of that. It... it doesn't sound painful, but it's... does he... does he want to be touched there? It's... uncomfortably close to some parts of him that he really just wants to not have touched ever again. Except that, hmm... he wants the pain to stop. Or- or does he? He can't stand the screaming and the pain stops the screaming but he's very close to not being able to stand the pain and he wants that to stop except that he  _needs_ it- 

Or maybe he can- he can just- just accept the touches and the offer and hope that enough of his pain stays to let him keep himself from being dragged down again. And, if it doesn't, he can... can go and get... just get a few more cuts. Just a few more. Just shallow ones. So he looks up at Sharpclaw for a moment, then bites his lip and slowly edges the waistband of his pants down on one side, just enough to expose the bandages over his hip. There. This... this is okay. He's okay with this. It doesn't hurt and most of him is still covered, he's just... just a little bit exposed. Just a tiny bit. Just a tiny, tiny bit. 

 

"Oh... you want me to? Alright... tell you what. You just sit right here for a minute, okay? You don't look like you really want to do much of anything, so I'm gonna fix up a bit of a nest for you." Sharpclaw hums softly, gently setting him in the back of the wagon. "That way you can just stretch out for a bit, let me get this on you, and then curl up and be safe." he explains, shifting a few bags of potatoes and such around and then pulling some blankets over them. After a minute or two, he'd set up a nice soft nest, and he gently picked the wraith up and set him down in it. "There. Now... do you think you'd be okay with lying down on your side so I can reach your hip? I'm just gonna sit right here... just like this." he croons, sitting down right next to the nest and seemingly trying to look unthreatening. "See? I'm not gonna try anything." 

 

Okay. He can do that. He's been more vulnerable than this without Sharpclaw trying anything, so... so yes. He can do this. He's nervous, and he can't quite stop biting his lip, but he slowly moves to stretch out on his side with his hip exposed. This... okay, this is... this isn't so bad. Just... just a tiny bit unnerving. Except that... that it's... um. It's... very vulnerable. Very much so. And Sharpclaw is just lightly touching his side, touching his  _hip,_ and- and he's- 

Ohhh gods. 

 

Sharpclaw watches in puzzlement as his companion gives an odd little whine and curls into a tiny ball, pulling a blanket up against his front and over his face. "I, uh... are you okay? Do- do I need to stop? No? Okay, then... just let me know if I need to stop. I'll just get this over with, okay?" he croons, then continues, very gently dabbing the ointment onto his cute little thing's hip. And, oh no- oh nooo he's so  _cute_ all curled up like that and he's so  _shy_ and ohhh gods- 

 

He manages to keep himself hidden the entire time, pulling the blankets up and hiding his face and just- just doing his best to stay calm. And telling himself that yes, yes, this- this is okay. Someone is gently caressing his hip, of  _course_ he's  _interested,_ it's normal and healthy and it's  _okay_ and it's not filthy or disgusting or  _wrong_ it's not a response to being touched by someone who'd never want his attention it's just a response to being touched and it's okay it's okay and  _gods I'm disgusting._

Well, apparently he likes something about this. Or, at least, a part of him does.

_Please don't notice please don't notice please don't notice._

 

And that... just about sums up what he does for awhile. He stays curled into a tiny ball, doing his best to hide his  _interest_ and silently pleading for Sharpclaw to not notice anything. He flips over when told to, but aside from that, he doesn't move- just shivers a bit. He's scared, he's hurting, and he hates himself for responding like  _this_ to the innocent attention he's being offered because this is really just disgusting and  _wrong_ and  _that isn't something he can have_ and he needs to stop  _doing_ this because it is not  _okay_. 

He doesn't come out of his ball of self-loathing for a long time. 

When he finally uncurls from his little ball, he's being offered something that- ooh, something that smells very, very good. Abruptly sitting up straight, he blinks dizzily at the bowl for a moment, then gladly takes it and the proffered spoon. And then remembers that he's just been drinking the stew he's been offered so far. He's, ah... going to have some trouble with this. Especially since his hands are still a little bit shaky now and then, especially when he concentrates too hard on things. 

 

"Hey, uh... it's okay if spoons are a bit... tricky. They take a little practice, especially with sharp teeth. I was something like nine before I could get th' hang of spoons and liquid. I dug a few spices out of my cooking stuff, and I made some rabbit stew. You can just drink the stew, the spoon is for the big chunks. I can chop 'em up a bit smaller next time if you want, but I like big chunks." Sharpclaw explains, sitting down next to him and sipping at his own bowl of stew. "And, uh- lemme know if you'd like more." he offers quietly, his voice soft and friendly. "You can have as much as you'd like." 

 

Okay. 

Tilting the bowl slightly, he takes a careful sip, then purrs softly and takes a much bigger sip. Oh, mmm. He likes this. He really, really likes this. 

It doesn't take him long to drain the bowl and get at the chunks (and he agrees with Sharpclaw- big chunks of rabbit are nice), and when the bowl is empty, he slowly nudges it towards Sharpclaw with an inquisitive little chirrup. He'd... he'd like a bit more. 

Much to his delight, he gets it. With an extra rabbit haunch, too, and he gets to nibble on that. And that's good, it tastes very good, and he's feeling a lot better when he's done. Apparently two hot bowls of stew and a rabbit haunch are enough to get him curled up and happy. Except- 

Sharpclaw is trying to get closer. Sharpclaw is trying to get closer to him and touch him and help him and he wants that to happen he wants to be touched he wants to feel nice but he- he's  _ashamed_ of himself, because he can't stop the  _thoughts_ and he still- he still wants- 

He actually wants to do this. He wants to touch and- and  _be_ touched, and not  _innocently._ He likes the innocent touches, he does, just- he's- 

He wants more, and a stomach full of hot soup is not enough to keep him from being ashamed of those desires. And then Sharpclaw reaches over to get the empty bowl and accidentally brushes against his stomach and- and he's- 

 

"Um." Sharpclaw pauses, blinking a couple of times, then slowly backs up a little bit. "Uh... sorry. That spot is a bit... sensitive, huh? Alright, sorry, really sorry- I-I won't touch there again. Sorry." he whispers, then backs away a bit further and glances away, blushing slightly. "Sorry. I, uh... didn't mean to... sorry. That was not on purpose. I'm not gonna do that again. Sorry." 

 

Sharpclaw is... apologizing? For... for accidentally... 

But this isn't- it's not Sharpclaw's fault. Sharpclaw didn't mean to do that. He- he didn't- that wasn't on purpose. It's not Sharpclaw's fault, it- it's  _his._ And it's wrong. This is wrong, he- he shouldn't want- shouldn't want to do  _this,_ it's  _wrong._ He's sorry. He's sorry, he's sorry, it's- it's not- he- he doesn't want to- 

A whimper best described as a sound of pure loathing escapes him, then he pulls a blanket up over himself, hiding behind it and digging his fingernails into his hip. It's through the bandages, it's not actually going to do any damage, but it- it hurts, and it's- it's the least of what he deserves, for reacting like this at all and for- 

For hiding under a blanket like a little child instead of facing his problems. This is shameful. This is just shameful and pathetic and- and now Sharpclaw is touching him again. 

 

"Hey, hey- don't do that." Sharpclaw sighs, very gently gripping his elbow until he stops, then hums soothingly and edges just a tiny bit closer. "Hey. Look up at me. It's- that's okay, really. It's, uh... an unfortunate part of having male equipment. Every now and then your body just... decides that you ought to be doing something that you don't particularly want to be doing. I think it happens to women, too, except I haven't actually  _asked_ because, y'know, awkward. But... yeah, that's, uh... that's not your fault. And I'm not gonna get mad, I'm not gonna yell at you or anything, I'm just... y'know what? I'm gonna pretend you aren't over there. Chirp at me if you want my attention, but aside from that, I'll just... be over here. Birdwatching. Yeah." 

 

He's... he... Sharpclaw isn't mad? Isn't upset, isn't angry, isn't- isn't taking this as an invitation... he's just backing off. 

Oh. 

Oh, that's... that's okay. That's better than okay, really, it's... it's good.

He's safe. Not only that, Sharpclaw isn't angry. He's just... a little bit embarrassed. And that's... that's alright. Except that it's  _cute,_ oh gods it's so cute, and- 

 

 

And long story short, he pretty much just hides for another day or so. That's not even an exaggeration. He's ashamed of himself for hiding like this, he really is, but he's decided that hiding like an infant is better than being far too interested in Sharpclaw. Also that 'interest' starts to hurt a bit after awhile. Evidently shame does something to help with that particular physical problem, but... evidently he's also... 

He's quite attracted to Sharpclaw and quite ashamed of himself for that and the only thing that jolts him out of that shame is a literal jolt. A lot of jolts, actually. 

Tumbling out of his nest with a startled yelp, the wraith flails for a moment in an effort to straighten himself out, then whines softly when he ends up in a heap in the corner of the cart. Startled and a bit bruised, he kicks out a couple of times, then flails himself upright with a muffled squall of indignation at being tossed around. Hey! What- what just- 

Oi! 

 

"Sorry, sorry, we- woah there-" Sharpclaw hissed, suddenly throwing all his weight to one side as the cart started to slide, then jumped out of the cart and grabbed the edge. "No no no- aaah there we go I gotcha. Hang on, Spook, and- Gor, dig in-" he warned, bracing his feet as best as possible on a suddenly rather slippery hillside and doing his best to anchor the wagon in place as Gor scrabbled for a purchase. For one heart-stopping moment, the cart teetered on two wheels, then Gor swung to the side and wrenched it back down onto all four. 

 

_No-_

Jolted out of his moment of indignation by sheer panic, the wraith squalls and claws at the floor of the cart for a moment, then clings tightly to the first side that his hands encounter. Shrilling in panic, he stares around for a moment in a panicked attempt to figure out what's happening, then just dives right out of the cart in an attempt to escape- and immediately regrets it. Mostly because the ground is rocky and he doesn't stop sliding until he's piled up against a large boulder- 

The final jolt knocks the air out of his lungs, and much to his dismay, he can't get any back in. Panting in frantic, shallow, helpless gasps, he claws at the ground in a desperate attempt to get away from whatever's wrong, then just stills and shudders all over. When Sharpclaw tries to pick him up, he immediately digs his nails into the hybrid's arms and gives the softest little whine, a plea for Sharpclaw to  _help him_. He doesn't know what's wrong but he  _can't breathe_ and he- 

 _He can't breathe_ and that is bad. 

 

"Shh. It's okay, it's okay- shh. You're alright, I promise, just got the breath knocked outta you. Just- just relax. You're gonna be just fine, you'll be able to breathe in a sec- ah, there we go. See? You're okay. Lungs got a bit stunned, but you're fine now. And I know that was scary, I know, I'm sorry, but you're okay now. See? You're fine now. Just breathe... you're okay. You're okay." Sharpclaw croons, very gently cradling him close and rubbing his back. "It's okay. Breathe. I got you... you're okay. Just breathe, Spook, you're safe." he whispered, nuzzling very gently against his forehead and evidently trying to help him relax. "I gotcha." 

 

Okay, he's really not sure about the nuzzling. He's also not sure about ending up in Sharpclaw's lap when they get back to the cart. Does- does he want to ride in the hybrid's lap? It's comfortable and he probably won't fall off, but... but it's... 

He's... really not sure about this. He was fine with it before, but- but that was when he was too weak to resist and too desperate for touch to care and when he wasn't- wasn't so  _interested_ in his companion. But now- now it's just- 

It's just tempting fate, tempting his body, and it's- and he's- he's actually a bit upset and he doesn't know what to do with this and he's- 

He's just very nervous. Very, very nervous. 

 

 

And it does not get any easier. 

It really, really does not get any easier. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our wraith likes mountains, it turns out.  
> Just not this particular mountain.  
> Things go poorly.  
> Poor wraith's emotional trainwreck gets another couple of trains added to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for self-harm. Strong warning.  
> Also a little bit of fluff at the end, yay.

He actually rather likes the mountains, at least at first. 

They're cold, and cold keeps his  _interest_ from showing. Also, everything is clear and bright once they get up above the largest trees, and... he likes that. His eyes are less sensitive to light now, and he likes being able to look around and actually  _see._ It's been a long time since he's been able to see clearly. Four thousand years of twisted vision, and then he'd spent all his time either in thick forest or in a town with buildings in the way. And then Sharpclaw picks him up, sets him on those powerful shoulders, and steps around a boulder to show him-

Woah. Eyes wide, the wraith takes a second to process being on Sharpclaw's shoulders (it's a bit odd, but also sort of nice), then raises his gaze and stares out over- oh. That... that is a rather deep gorge. And there is a lot of ice and snow and a lot of  _white_ and he can't remember ever being able to see this  _far-_

And then he looks down, realizes how tall Sharpclaw is, yelps in alarm, and ends up with his arms wrapped around Sharpclaw's neck. And then yelps again, wraps his arms tighter, and shudders all over when he looks a few feet past Sharpclaw and sees how far down it would be if he fell down the gorge. Haaaah no. Nope nope nope. A panicked whine escapes him, then he just about dives behind Sharpclaw, clinging tightly to the hybrid's frame and panting softly in fear. No no no no- 

 

"Gah- oh, hey, hey, shh. It's alright, you won't fall. I gotcha. Here, we'll just- move back a bit, okay?" Sharpclaw croons, backing up and then reaching up to just lightly touch his arm. "Here. It's okay, look. We're not gonna fall, we're fine. See?" he coos, then carefully pries the wraith off of himself, holding the slender being in his arms instead. "You don't like heights, huh? Well, that's okay. A lot of people don't. Here, just... let's go over here." he whispers, then very gently sets him back down, far away from the edge of the gorge. "There. You all right? Just try to relax... you're okay. You're safe. Everything is safe. See?" 

 

Yes. Yes, of course, he's safe. 

And he wants a better look. Giving himself a little shake, the wraith squares his shoulders and steels himself, then takes a few firm steps towards the edge. He doesn't get too close, but he does stand a few feet away from the edge, staring out over the massive gorge and just... watching an eagle, and more than that, just feeling.

He can  _see._ He can finally, clearly see, and he can hear the far-off bird's cry, and he can smell the clearest air he remembers ever taking a breath of, and he can feel the _cold_. And, unlike the bone-chilling inner cold of before, it feels  _good._ Because he's still warm, but he can feel the cold on his skin and it's  _exciting._ Eyes wide, the wraith steps just a bit closer to the edge, then chirps and looks back at Sharpclaw with what is probably a rather delighted expression on his face. He  _likes_ this.

Okay, yes, he definitely likes mountains. 

 

 

And then they get further in, and his opinion starts to change. He still likes mountains, he does, just... just not this one. Mostly because he remembers it, and he remembers its stones streaming with blood and its cold peaks ringing with screams of terror and agony and his hands are twitching towards his hips again before he realizes it and he just barely gets them away in time to not be noticed as Sharpclaw glances back to check on him. He manages a casual little chirrup, and apparently he manages to communicate some form of "I wasn't doing anything I'm fine", but... he's not fine. He's really, really not. 

He doesn't want to be here. 

He doesn't want to have to be here, doesn't want to have to listen to Sharpclaw quietly wondering about the origins of the crumbling stone walls around them, doesn't want to- to be asked if he might happen to know anything about this because he  _does_ he knows  _exactly_ what happened and clearly Sharpclaw doesn't know that or he'd have said something but he- he's still  _asking_ and he's- 

A soft little keen slips between his fangs, then he curls into a tighter ball and stares down at the floor of the wagon, trying to make Sharpclaw  _stop talking._ He doesn't want to talk, and he doesn't want to be talked at, either. He wants to curl up and possibly cry, except that he'll just end up attracting Sharpclaw's attention if he does that, so he'll... he'll just... sit here and try to keep himself held together. Biting his lip, he curls into the tightest ball he can manage without being suspicious, and despite the rattling of the cart jolting him around, he doesn't uncurl. He just hides his face, bites down on his lip, and shivers. For, hm. Apparently a few hours, because when he finally looks up, it's getting dark. Quite dark. 

 

"I'm not sure if you can tell, since you've been hiding all day, but we've actually gotten pretty far. And it's cold and getting colder, so we're gonna set up in this cave for tonight, I think." Sharpclaw explains, already in the middle of starting a campfire. "Ah, there we go. This oughta keep us warm if we park the wagon in front of the door and sit Gor down near it. Now- c'mon out of the wagon, okay?" he coaxes, now carrying a small fire in an old frying pan as he walks into the cave. "Needed the wind to get this started up, but here we go. You take a nice long stretch, and then c'mon in before you get too cold. Don't freeze any fingers or toes off, those are important. And pull that coat on tight- I knew a guy who froze his nipples and it did not end well for him." 

 

...ow. That does not sound pleasant. Wincing slightly to himself, the wraith hugs his coat tighter around himself and hides his hands in the pockets, then winces again and slips out of the cart. It's very cold now, and he's- nnh. He's being whipped in the face by suddenly-icy winds, and he does not like that. At all. Ow. Whining softly to himself (honestly, more like fussing), he limps into the cave and sits down, then bites his lip and stares around. The cave looks like it used to be a camp of some sort, and he happens to know that it was... mostly because he's the reason it's empty. 

 

"Here... c'mon over. You've been hiding from me all day, I'm kinda worried. You don't have to talk to me or anything, just... come over here and stop hiding. Please?" Sharpclaw coaxes, then smiles when he reluctantly slinks over. "There, good. Now- I'm gonna get Gor in here and put the wagon in front of the door. Fire's gonna have to stay near the door so we don't get all choked, but Gor will wake us up if there are any problems, and the wind ought to drag most of the smoke out." he explains, then pushes Gor further into the cave in order to pull the wagon up so that it partially blocks the cave entrance. "There we go, windbreak. Now- I'll grab some blankets, you just try to find a spot that might be comfy." 

 

Okay. There are some shallow hollows at the back of the cave, presumably for sleeping in, and he slowly creeps over to curl up in one. It's cold, it's very cold, but it's in the shadows and he can look around and- 

And there is a broken-off spearhead half-hidden under a stone. A very sharp, gleaming spearhead. With- with a piece of the handle still attached, which means he can... can probably pick it up without cutting his hand open. If he wants to, he can- 

His thoughts are cut off by a couple of blankets and a deer hide being thrown over him by Sharpclaw, and his stare breaks off as he yelps in surprise, but as soon as he settles into place again he's back to staring at it. Because he... he's... he wants to. He deserves it. He's responsible for this. There is a disgusting amount of blood on his hands,  _so much blood,_ and it- it only seems right that he should add some of his own to that. And that spearhead is  _right there,_ right in front of him, and the  _screams_ are back and they've been back since he saw this cave, since he saw the ruins outside, and these screams  _echo_ and he needs to make it  _stop_ and  _Sharpclaw isn't looking._

He doesn't want to upset Sharpclaw. He doesn't. He... really likes Sharpclaw, and he doesn't want to get that  _look_ again. He wants to keep Sharpclaw happy. He really, really does. He just... he just really needs to- 

He needs to make this  _stop._ And... and he can... he can keep Sharpclaw from finding out, can't he? He'll just wait for Sharpclaw to fall asleep, and... hm. He can just... just cut carefully. If he's not bleeding too badly, Sharpclaw won't notice anything. And the half-goblin already looks tired, so... he'll just wait for Sharpclaw to fall asleep. Just wait. It'll... it'll be fine. He can wait a few more minutes, can't he? 

Curling himself into a little ball, the wraith shivers quietly for a few minutes, alternating between watching Sharpclaw doze off and staring over at the spearhead. When he's certain that Sharpclaw had fallen asleep, he slowly reaches out and touches the edge of the spearhead, then wraps his hand around the bit of handle and pulls it closer. Shifting to curl up on his back, he cradles the spearhead close and inspects it, then licks his lips nervously and slowly starts to pull his shirt up out of the way. Shivering at the touch of the cool air, he lightly caresses a spot on his side to feel the texture, then brings the spearhead over with his other hand and slowly brings it to bear.

He... he doesn't like pain. But... he does want to make the screams  _stop,_ and he... he knows how to do that.

Pain will make the screams stop. 

Tensing slightly in anticipation, he carefully presses the edge of the spear to his side, then slowly increases the pressure until blood wells up. Biting his lip, he gently pulls the sharp edge along his side, then pulls it away and stares down at the wound. It's- it's not deep, just a shallow little cut, just a few droplets of blood oozing out. It stings, though, and it... it helps. And it's not bad... the blade is clean, the cut isn't deep, it's barely more than a scrape. He could probably do worse with his fingernails. 

He doesn't stop at the first slice, of course. It's not enough. So he repeats the movement, this time with a bit less hesitation, and just a bit higher. And then again, and again, and then down across the other cuts a handful of times. 

And then it stops hurting. He still feels the knife, but it doesn't  _hurt,_ it feels... it's just cold. It's very, very cold.

_It's working._

He can hear everything, every little sound anywhere near him, but his world is nothing but himself. Nothing but himself, bloody ice, and the cold, cold slide of steel. 

The screams are gone. 

The screams are gone and he's not looking around at the cave any more because he doesn't care because nothing matters except  _this,_ except  _now,_ and he can hear his own breathing and his heartbeat and everything is so very  _peaceful._ He's actually starting to feel like everything might be  _okay,_ and then... 

He slips. He goes over a spot that sends a stab of pain up his spine and he jolts in surprise, and then cold steel slices deep and blood  _spatters_ and he drops the spearhead and the peace is broken. Biting down on his tongue to muffle an alarmed little noise, he immediately clamps both hands over the wound, then shivers and relaxes just a tiny bit. It's okay. He's okay, he's okay... just a cut, he's okay. He's okay he's okay he's okay  _it's still bleeding why won't it stop why is it bleeding so much_

_Too deep_

_Too deep too deep too deep_

Panting sharply in alarm, the wraith slowly uncovers the gash, then whimpers and clamps his hands back in place when he sees how heavily it's bleeding. The others were just oozing blood, one or two trickling slightly, but this is practically  _gushing_ blood and he's suddenly very aware of how cold he is and he is  _very_ alarmed by that and he's-

His head is spinning and he's _cold_ and something is  _wrong_ and he needs  _help_ but if he tells Sharpclaw he's going to make his companion so  _upset,_ he can't  _tell,_ but he-  he  _needs_ to- 

_Need help need help need to wake Sharpclaw up don't deserve it but_

_But he'll be more upset if he wakes up and I'm-_

_I need help need to wake him up **need to get help.**_

Whining softly in alarm, he drags himself to his feet and limps in Sharpclaw's direction, then staggers and runs into the wall, hard. Whining again in distress, he limps over to Sharpclaw, then just about trips over the hybrid and ends up collapsing against him. 

 

"Gfzzzhft whaaa?" Sharpclaw mutters, uncurling and blinking in confusion, then sits up straight when the scent of blood registers. Bared fangs glinting in the firelight, he stares around for a moment, then grabs the wraith when his companion tries to limp away. "Woah woah woah hey come back here- what's wrong, where- oh gods blood _what did you do?"_

Clearly very alarmed, the hybrid wraps his hands around the wraith's midsection and pulls him down, trapping the smaller being in his lap. "Let me see, okay? Let me see you, let me see. It's going to be okay, Spook, it's okay, it's okay, but I need you to let me see, okay? Let me see you, let me- let me see. I can't help you unless you show me." he whispers, carefully prying both hands away from the wraith's stomach to get a look at the cut. When he does, he relaxes considerably, then sighs softly and carefully presses a hand over the wound. "Okay, Spook... you're gonna be fine. It's okay. That cut is bleeding quite a lot, but it's not too bad, it's not too deep. It's just a cut. You're going to be perfectly fine, sweetie. It's okay. Now... I'm going to put you down, I'm going to go and get some bandages, and we're going to get you patched up. But you  _are_ going to be fine, understand? It's not bad, it's not bad, I promise, I'm just talking kinda fast because you startled me, it's gonna be okay." he soothed, moving quickly over to the cart and then coming right back. "Alright, Spook. I'm gonna get you patched up... you're gonna be just fine. Here, here... press this over it." 

 

Shuddering in alarm, he shakily takes the pad of cloth offered to him, pressing it over the wound and then  _whimpering_ when Sharpclaw pulls his arm away to get a look at his wounds. He's sorry, he's  _sorry,_ he- he didn't mean to do this he'd just tried to make the screams stop he's  _sorry_ he's very sorry and he  _hurts_ he's sorry he was just trying to make it  _stop_ he's  _sorry-_

But Sharpclaw doesn't look angry. He looks... sad. Just very, very sad. And his touches are so  _gentle_ and he's not- not offering any sort of  _punishment_ but that's just  _worse_ than him being angry because it doesn't  _make sense_ and it  _hurts more-_

_Stop looking sad don't give me that look stop being so gentle just **yell** at me,  **hurt** me, something other than just  **this** because I don't know what to do with it and it  **hurts** and I need you to  **stop**_

_**Stop being so gentle I don't deserve this and I don't understand it** _

 

"Come here." Sharpclaw whispers, very softly, then slowly pulls the wraith into his lap and just very gently hugs him. "I've got you. I've got you, okay? I've got you. It's okay, sweetie... I gotcha. You're safe. You're gonna be okay. I have you. Now... you're shaking. I'm going to hold you until you stop bleeding, until you stop shaking, and then you're going to stay right here and we are going to talk. I don't care if your voice still doesn't work, we are going to talk. I am not angry, understand? I am not angry with you. I am not angry. I am upset, but I am not angry. I am not going to punish you, alright? I will not punish you. I don't know why you did this, but... you have reasons, I'm sure, and I am going to find out those reasons and then do my best to get rid of them. Okay?" 

 

No. Not okay. Not okay at all. Whining softly, the wraith squirms for a moment, then pants and just goes still. No. Not okay, he- no. Doesn't want to talk. Doesn't want to be held doesn't want to be talked to so  _gently_ just wants to be left in a corner  _alone_ because now Sharpclaw is  _holding_ him and pressing on the wound for him and making him stay still and  _helping_ him and  _they are sitting in the ruins of a town he helped to tear apart there is a reason why he is so upset-_

Going completely still -struggling is no use anyway, Sharpclaw is far too strong- and quiet, he stares up at the ceiling for a moment, then  _shrills_ in pain when the structure of the ceiling registers underneath the ice. It's cracked and broken and  _scorched_ because they  _burned_ the room, threw flaming things inside to smoke out the beings trying to hide inside and then threw them back when the flames started to grow. Animals probably dragged away the bones, but he  _knows_ this place, and he- he's the one who- 

_"I did ttthhiissss..."_

 

"Woah, hey- you're talkin' now?" Sharpclaw asks, looking  _very_ confused for a moment, then gently but firmly turns him around and meets his eyes. "You-you can't have done this, it's been here a really long time- few centuries, probably. Look at this place, it's ancient. You'd have to be about ten times older than me to-" 

Apparently the  _pain_ in his eyes changes Sharpclaw's mind on that, though. "...you're serious. You're... you actually... well, how did- how can you possibly be this  _old?_ You're... you look like you're my age, maybe a little bit older. So- so I just don't see how- okay, uh, you know what? Stop- stop with that look. Your eyes are all- you look like a puppy who accidentally murdered something. I... I don't know how you can have been around for this, and I don't know  _why,_ but... but you- oh gods, if you don't stop giving me that look I'm just gonna hug you, and I don't know if that's going to help, but I know I do need to be able to talk to you, so- it's okay, don't bother tryin' to hide that look, just- aim it at the wall, I'm gonna hold you a bit better." he declares, very gently turning the slender wraith around so that his chest is pressed to the smaller being's back. "Here. Now... you are clearly not at all proud of yourself, so... can you tell me what you d- oh. Are we, uh... are we doing this ag- okay, yeah." 

 

Well. Evidently his voice works now. Somewhat. It might be working a bit better if he wasn't shuddering all over, great, heaving sobs ripping their way out of his throat, shaking too hard to be coherent and digging his fingernails into Sharpclaw's arm. He doesn't  _understand_ any of this and he  _hurts_ and he is a  _monster_ and why does Sharpclaw not- not- he's- 

_I'm a monster and you shouldn't be HELPING me why are you doing this why are you touching me why aren't you ANGRY please be angry please just make sense please_

Probably the most distressed noise imaginable slips between his teeth, then he squirms for a moment before just biting down on Sharpclaw's arm, desperately trying to get this situation to just  _make sense._ If- if he can get Sharpclaw to be angry with him, then things will make sense, and then he can just be afraid of Sharpclaw and focus on that instead of being so incredibly confused by what's happening. Because that really seems like the best option here. For reasons he is uncertain of. At- at least he'd know what to do with anger, he can deal with that, he's dealt with anger before, Sauron's anger, and he- he does- he can do that, he just- he needs to make this more like something he  _knows_ and then everything will be okay. Everything will be fine. Sharpclaw will be angry, but anger passes, that's  _fine._

 

"Ow. Ow, okay, I really don't know what's up with you, but... I kinda need you to not do that, pretty sure I'm bleeding. And, uh... that actually really hurts! Look- I'm not- I'm not gonna hurt you, I just- can you let go? Come on, Spook, come on... lemme go." Sharpclaw coaxes, then sighs, muttering something under his breath and then placing a hand lightly on the side of the wraith's face. "Look, I'm not gonna hurt you, but I do really need you to let go. So- I'm just gonna get you pried off my arm. You can snarl at me all you want, and you can bite down on my arm guard, just -ow- just not on my actual arm. Okay?" he soothes, then carefully pries the wraith's mouth open enough to get his arm away, examining the bleeding bite mark with a grimace and then wincing again when the side of his hand is bitten. "Ow! Hey, what- okay, _let go."_ he orders, grabbing his companion by the scruff and pulling until he stops biting, then (smothering the urge to hug him and probably be bitten again) stares into the anguished golden eyes of a very upset wraith. "What are you doing? Are you trying to make me mad at y- oh." 

Relaxing slightly, the hybrid sighs very softly, still meeting those pain-filled eyes. "You are trying to make me upset, aren't you? Why... why're you trying to... oh. You... are you trying to make me keep doing what you were just doing to yourself? Because I'm- I'm not going to. And I'm not going to get mad, okay? I'm kinda upset, yeah, and I don't like this, but I'm not gonna get mad at you. Just... close your eyes, okay? Stop that. I won't hurt you. So stop trying to make me angry at you, and just... shh. Or, if you're gonna keep doing this, I can keep holding you still. I'm not gonna let go until you stop trying to bite me, mostly because your teeth are impressively sharp and I kinda need my skin. And my  _muscles,_ you bite deep. Shh."  _please don't make me gag you._

 

Oh. That is... a lot deeper than he meant to bite. He actually caused damage. Whining softly in distress, the wraith goes absolutely still, then whimpers apologetically and shuts his eyes, loathing the taste of Sharpclaw's blood on his teeth. Partially because he actually  _likes_ the taste, at least somewhat, and he- he is probably disgusting for that. He's sorry, he's very sorry, he just- he wanted to make Sharpclaw angry at him, but he didn't want to _hurt_ Sharpclaw, he just- he wanted- 

_I'm sorry I'm so sorry I hurt you I'm sorry_

Opening his eyes again, he whimpers very softly up at Sharpclaw, then whines and tries to scrub the blood off his teeth. No. Disgusting. Bad bad bad. 

 

"You done? Okay, good. Come here." Sharpclaw croons, then very gently wraps his arms around the wraith, cradling him close without any evident fear. "I have you. Now... here. You get, uh, get the blood off your teeth. I'm just going to get these cleaned out, and then... honestly? I don't know what then. I'm, uh... I need some time to think." he sighs, handing a piece of cloth to his companion, then carefully begins to clean the deep bite mark on his arm. "This, uh, might actually scar. I'm impressed. You've got some sharp teeth on you. Not too bad, though, and probably at least fairly clean. Let's see here... yeah, uh, ow, but not bad. Oof." 

The last sound is caused by Gor whining and bomping his head into Sharpclaw's back, then shoving his muzzle into his master's stomach- and being whacked in the face by the wraith. Whining, the Warg retreats with a very upset expression, then flops down somewhere behind Sharpclaw and whimpers in concern. 

"Hey, don't- don't hit Gor, he's just worried." Sharpclaw scolds, then wraps a strip of bandage quickly around his arm before inspecting his hand. "And, again, ow, but not bad. You didn't get much of anything. I'm just gonna wrap this up, aaand... there. Now, uh... do you have anything else to... anything else to contribute? Because I'm... not really sure what to do with you. I mean... you're telling me you're responsible for... some sort of attack on this place, which seems to have happened at least a couple centuries ago, and... I really don't know what to do with that, especially since you apparently want to be punished for it." he sighs, then pauses, reaching down to tug the edge of the wraith's bloody shirt up and get a look at the fresh wounds- and the older ones under them. "Is this what you've been hurting yourself for? Just- just this?" he asks, very softly, then slowly replaces the wraith's shirt at a soft little whine. "Is... is this it?" 

 

This, but- but not just  _this._ Whining, he squirms around for a moment in a weak attempt to get away, then whimpers and stares down at his hands for a moment. Biting his lip, he raises one hand, tapping his ring and then clearing his throat in an attempt to speak. He's still shaking, though, and he's- well, he's not certain if the noises he's making count as sobs, but his throat doesn't seem inclined to behave. Whimpering very softly, he shuts his eyes for a moment, then opens them again and tries to wriggle away. There's a canteen nearby, and he- he wants it. Maybe he can get his throat to cooperate if he gets a drink? 

Sharpclaw doesn't try to hold him back, and there's a hand very softly resting on his back as he drinks, and he... he can practically smell Sharpclaw's concern. Actually, he can smell a lot of things, but mostly  _blood,_ and- does concern actually have a smell? Because he's fairly sure he can- ah- no, okay, that's not something he needs to focus on right now. Just... just needs his voice back. 

After a few minutes to wet his throat and pant until his breath is back, the wraith sits back and raises his hand again, tapping the ring.  _"Nine."_ he manages, then clears his throat and shakes his head when Sharpclaw just looks confused. He's... going to have to be clearer, evidently. He doesn't want to, but evidently he'll have to. Curling into a little ball, he stares down at the ring for a moment, then takes a deep breath and speaks again. His voice is very soft and very raspy, almost a hiss, and he can't seem to rid himself of the soft hiss that laces itself through his voice. 

_"Three ringsss for the elven-kingsss under the sssky,_

_Ssseven for the dwarf-lordsss in hallsss of ssstone,_

_Nine f-for mortal m-men doomed to d-die,_

_One for t-the D-Dark Lord o-on hisss dark throne_

_In t-the l-land of Mordor w-where the s-shadowsss lie._

_One R-Ring t-to rule t-them all, One Ring t-to f-find them,_

_One R-Ring to b-bring them a-all and- and i-in t-the darknessss b-bind- bind t-them..."_

He can't get any further- his voice breaks. From emotion or just from not being used in a long time, he's not sure. Not that it matters, anyway, because now he has to deal with- with Sharpclaw. And the look of dawning realization on the hybrid's face. 

 

Sharpclaw sits back, an expression somewhere between shock and sudden realization dawning, then shakes his head and leans back a bit further. "You- you are not-" he stammers, then grins, pressing a hand over his eyes for a moment. "Well. Okay then. So, uh... is...  _oh,_ is  _this_ why you were so confused when I found you? Because either I am very confused, or you are telling me that you were formerly- no, that is- okay, there is no way that's possible. Seriously. How... how is this even... I don't... please explain." he sighs, then slowly tugs the wraith a bit closer, trying to soothe away the shaking. "Easy, easy. I won't hurt you, okay? I'm not... look, I am very confused, but... I-I really don't know what to do, but I am not going to hurt you, sweetie. And- ah dang. I keep calling you that, don't I? Just- just ignore that. And- okay, look. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm also not going to let you hurt yourself. I need some time to figure out what in the heck I am going to do, but... it's not going to involve hurting you, okay? You just... just relax." he sighs, then pulls a blanket up over them both, hugging the wraith very gently to his chest. "Easy. I've got you." 

 

Why... why is... 

Sharpclaw is just hugging him and looking very confused. This is not the response he was expecting. This is not a rational response to essentially being told "Hi, I'm a murderer and have been for several thousand years", but then again, nobody rational tames a Warg that size. Or just about adopts a rather creepy-looking stranger found under a tree. Maybe he should stop applying his past experiences to Sharpclaw. He is very confused and his attempts at figuring his situation out are only being made worse by his comparisons. Maybe he should just... 

He doesn't know what he'll do. He's... he's confused. He's very confused, and his mind hurts, and so does the rest of him. Sharpclaw isn't... angry? Isn't even upset? About  _anything?_ Well, alright- clearly he's a bit upset, but... he just looks confused. Very confused. Which is... a very understandable response. 

 

 

It takes quite awhile for the two to stop just staring at each other in confusion. Eventually, though, Sharpclaw has some idea what to do. And, since the wraith is still sobbing (or possibly something between sobbing and growling, it's hard to tell), he very gently gathers his smaller companion close and, after a moment's hesitation, very gently takes both of the wraith's hands. "Here. Let me see that ring." he coaxes, then sighs, smirking just a bit at himself. "I don't know what I'm looking for, I have no idea what a cursed ring would look like. Now... you are still crying. That is not okay. And I am still very confused, honestly, but... okay. You were, evidently, a Ringwraith at some point. I can deal with that. And do you know why I can deal with that? Because, clearly, you loathe what you did. You evidently loathe yourself for it. And... okay, I don't know the story entirely, but, uh... doesn't sound like you really wanted to help that lunatic. So... did you  _want_ all of this? And- look, you can answer honestly." 

 

No. No way in  _Hell_ did he want this. He wanted  _power._ That was all. Not even this  _sort_ of power, he just- he wanted- he wanted to rule. He wanted more land, more success, more  _respect._ And, yes, he got that... and far more. Which he did not want. Sighing softly, he very slowly shook his head, then wrapped his hands into Sharpclaw's shirt and tried to hide. He's decided what he wants to do, and he wants to curl into a ball and hide in a corner until he gets too cold to feel anything. Would that work? Is- is it possible to get so cold you can't feel anything without actually dying? Because he doesn't really want to die, just... not feel things for awhile. Too many feelings. Too many feelings and too much confusion and too much  _hurt_ and too many screams in his mind again  _make it stop._  Whining softly, he shakes his head and stares down at the ring, then shuts his eyes and trembles. 

 

"I figured. Being turned into some kind of a weird ghost-thing and then made to kill people does not sound like the sort of thing that any sane person would want. Which, come to think of it, prooobably explains the rest of your... problems. This, uh... might be helpful, I guess, now that I know what's wrong. Or- now that I know enough to give my mom some idea of what's wrong, I... I don't know what the Hell I'm doing here. Sorry. You need someone more experienced than me. For now, though, I'm just... I'm gonna try something. But I'm pretty sure you're gonna start cryin' again, and that's okay, but I'm gonna bank up the fire a bit so you don't freeze your eyeballs. You, uh... drink some water." Sharpclaw coaxes, very gently setting him on a blanket and shoving the canteen into his hands, then gets up and heads over to the door. "And- Gor, stop makin' worried eyes at me. Here, go- go hunt. Go get somethin' tasty, huh? Go hunt, Gor. Bring me somethin'." he orders, patting Gor roughly on the rump to encourage the Warg to leave rather than staring at the Ringwraith in concern. "Shove off, pup." 

Once he's gotten the fire banked up a bit more, Sharpclaw moves back over to his blanket nest and sits down, then grabs the blanket his companion is sitting on and wraps it around the lower half of him. "There. You aren't trapped, don't worry, but you're gonna have a hard time wriggling away from me. So- you sit right here. You can tell me if you're uncomfortable, but unless you do, I am going to keep you right here. And, uh- lemme take my shirt off. There." he mutters, wrapping his bear cloak tighter around himself and his (shuddering) companion, then winces at the press of cold hands on his skin. " _Wow_ you're cold, and okay that is not healthy. So you sit right here in my lap, I am gonna wrap this cloak around the both of us, and we'll see if we can get you warmed up." 

As he explains everything, he very gently wraps the both of them up, settling the wraith against his chest and just cradling him. "There we go. Now... I'm just gonna hold your hands like this. Help you get warmed up a bit. And... I'm gonna start talking now. I am going to tell you a few things, and I want you to know that I believe every word of this. And I am going to keep talking until you start to believe me." Sharpclaw whispers, then leans down slightly, whispering in the ears of the shaking, slender little thing huddled up against his chest. "This wasn't your fault. None of this was your fault. Nothing that happened was your fault. You- you got fooled. From what I hear, that lunatic was really, really good at fooling people. You made one choice of debatable wisdom. You are not in trouble for that. You do not deserve to  _hate_ yourself for that. You made one, single, mistake. He offered you something that you really wanted, and, clearly, you took it. That is what most people would do. Yeah, maybe an offer that good should logically be passed up, but guess what? People don't operate on pure logic. Hindsight is just about perfect, foresight isn't anywhere near. You didn't know about this, and that is okay. Now- I didn't know you before this. Heck, probably nobody in my family line knew you before this. But... whoever you used to be, you're... you seem like a decent person now. You try to be nice, even if you aren't sure how. You- heck, you kinda just apologized for biting me  _while_ you were biting me. And... clearly you are very upset about what you had to do." 

His eyes softening even more as the wraith in his arms started to sob in earnest, Sharpclaw very gently put his arms around the shaking being, then softly nuzzled the top of his head in an effort to offer some comfort. "You are not a bad person. Whoever you used to be, you are not a bad person. You are a decent person, at the very least, and... I think you're a good person. So I am going to hold you, very gently, and I am going to keep telling you that this is not your fault. And... you know what? Whatever you did, whatever you were  _forced_ to do, I forgive you. You hear me? I forgive you." 

He's expecting an emotional reaction. His unfortunate companion got very upset about before, so he's expecting more crying or some sort of response. It's entirely understandable. He's just... not quite expecting to be shrieked at. Jolting slightly in surprise, he twitches back, then sighs and resumes his gentle hugging. "Sorry. You, uh... okay. You evidently don't want to hear me say this, but it is absolutely true. This is not your fault, and I  _forgive_ you. You are forgiven. So I am going to hold you, and... I am going to keep telling you this until you believe me. You are forgiven." 

 

No no no no  _no._ No. 

_Stop stop stop stop stop I'M NOT I DON'T DESERVE-_

Giving the most terrifying shriek he can manage (really more pitiful than anything else), the wraith struggles for a moment, clawing at Sharpclaw's arm, then goes limp and just  _shudders._ And sobs. 

Curling into a tiny ball, he wraps his arms around his head and cries, incredibly aware of the scent of his own blood and wanting so badly to just make everything  _go away._

 

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry you're hurting. I am so, so sorry. Now... I'm gonna try something. It... might be weird, but I think it might help." Sharpclaw whispers, then coaxes the wraith to tilt his chin up, leaning down and pressing a very soft kiss to his companion's forehead. "Shh. I've got you. You can cry, I'm not trying to make you stop doing that, I'm just trying to help you hurt a little bit less. And-" 

Pausing, he looks down at the wraith for a moment, then smiles very softly when those tear-filled golden eyes flick up towards him. "You look... about as confused as I felt a minute ago. Which is fine. You're... relaxing a little bit, though. Look at you. Did... did you actually like that? Because... if you... if you want, I can kiss you again. Nothing more than that, but... I'm certainly willing." he ventures, now blushing slightly but clearly not at all reluctant. 

 

He... doesn't want that to go away. He likes that. He really likes that. He doesn't know what to do about that feeling, but... but there is a tiny flicker of warmth in his chest somewhere, and it  _confuses_ him, but it actually feels good. Chirruping very, very softly, he nods just a tiny bit, then slowly leans up a little bit and glances up at Sharpclaw. Yes? Probably? 

Yes. 

And he doesn't realize it, he's more focused on Sharpclaw than anything else, but he's not shaking anywhere near as hard. 

 

"Alright, then. I gotcha. Just relax..." Sharpclaw croons, then lightly nuzzles his forehead for a moment before softly kissing the spot. "There. Now... again? Maybe a couple more times?" he ventures, then smiles softly at a tentative little nod. "Alright, sure. I have you. I'm... just gonna keep doin' that. You let me know if you get uncomfortable, or if you want me to stop for any reason, or if you just want me to do something else. Or if you wanna sleep, you can... you can do that. I'm just going to... keep kissing you, I guess." the hybrid chuckles, blushing a bit more but not at all reluctant. He... likes this. "I... have absolutely no objections. You  _like_ this, clearly, and... I'm glad to do anything I can to help you. And, honestly? I like this too." he whispers, then twitches in surprise when the wraith lunges and wraps both arms around his neck. "Woah, woah, hey- 's okay, I'm- I'm not goin' anywhere." he croons, lightly stroking his companion's back, then sighs softly when the wraith nuzzles into his collarbone and  _sobs._ "Okay. Shh... 's okay. I got you. I have you, I promise. I have you." 

_I have no idea what to do with you, but I have you._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Folks, this fic ain't dead! The muse is being difficult, but there's a good bit more in this thing.   
> Also, this is now officially book length and I have no clue how that happened. Whoops.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of fluff. And I mean a LOT of fluff. This is adorable.  
> Also, much confusion and some alarm. Wraith misinterprets things and is very emotionally unstable.

Eventually, the wraith manages to gather himself up a bit. It... it helps quite a bit that Sharpclaw keeps  _kissing_ him. He doesn't know why, but it feels... good. Very good. It takes him awhile to fully realize just how good, though. And then he blinks, sniffles, looks up at Sharpclaw- and squeaks slightly when his large companion responds by kissing him on the nose. Startled, the wraith blinks a couple of times, then snorts and shoves his face into Sharpclaw's neck again. This time, though, he's not crying. It takes him a moment to sort the feeling out, but he's... 

He's laughing. He's  _laughing_ and it actually feels kinda nice except that it's a little bit scary that it's not stopping now. And, oh. Oops. He can't stop. And that is concerning. 

 

"Heh. There we go, that's- that's way better than you crying. Just- relax a bit, okay? You're fine. You're absolutely fine." Sharpclaw soothes, very gently rubbing the wraith's back at a concerned little chirrup mixed into the muffled giggling. "You're fine. Might be laughing for a little while, brains are weird sometimes, but you're okay. And, uh... your face is warm, I guess you're blushing. Some people laugh when they're embarrassed. You, uh... you feelin' shy? I know this is probably... really weird. Are you... are you alright? You aren't about to freak out, are you? Because- I'm sorry if I went too far, I just- mmf." he mutters, cut off by a hand landing over his face. "Y' okay?" 

 

His voice doesn't seem to want to work, but no, he's fine. He's very confused and his brain is being dumb, apparently, but he's okay. He'd just like Sharpclaw to shush, please, there's- there's nothing wrong. Sharpclaw didn't... didn't go too far. That little gesture was very funny, apparently. 

And... hm. What does... what sort of implications are there behind- behind kissing someone that way? On the nose just seems like something meant to be cute, and it sorta was, but... he's not really... not really sure about the first bit. What... does that mean? Is there... some kind of... there's affection behind that, he's sure of it, he's just... he doesn't know how much. And... and Sharpclaw called him "sweetie", at least once, and he's... not sure what that means. Sweet things taste good, but... that is probably not what that means. It's a term of endearment, apparently, but... how much of one? 

He doesn't know what any of this means. It's... clearly not something  _bad,_ it's far too gentle and soft and  _sweet,_ but it's- 

Oh, is  _that_ the kind of sweet that-? No, that can't possibly be what Sharpclaw meant. He's not  _sweet._ He... he bites. And hisses. And he's- he's not anything to- he's not  _special._ Not that way. He's... he's just... he's some sort of charity case. Isn't he? 

 

"You're... you're okay, then? Good. So, uh... is there anything you'd like? Your arms are still around my neck, so... looks like you're after something. It's alright if you just kinda wanna be there, but... is there something you're..." Sharpclaw trails off as the wraith inches up higher, then leans back, allowing his companion to essentially just sit on his chest. "Uh... I'm not complaining, this is fine, but... what're you up to? Or... do you know?" he ventures, slowly raising one hand and placing it on his companion's back. "I'm all for self-exploration, you need to figure stuff out anyway, but... I'm just a tiny bit concerned about the fact that whatever you're doing involves staring very intently at me. Because that's the look cats get when they're about to jump on somethin', and I'd rather you not jump on my face. I like my face. So I'm... not really sure if you want me to... uh..." he whispers, then trails off again, still looking rather concerned. "What're you, uh..." 

 

He... doesn't really know what he's doing, but he... really just feels very compelled to slink up and... and something. Stare into Sharpclaw's eyes from far too close, apparently. There... there is probably some sort of memory linked to this, something from a long time ago, but he's... not sure what, or what to do next. Maybe he'll just... stretch out along Sharpclaw's front and stare up at him. It's very comfortable. Very warm. Especially since, hm... since Sharpclaw is still shirtless. And very,very warm. And... well-muscled. 

Ak. There are those thoughts again. Those... those horrifically tantalizing thoughts that just- just need to  _go away._ Biting his lip and cringing slightly, he glances away from Sharpclaw and tucks himself into a smaller ball, then sighs and stares down at where his hand is resting on soft white skin. This is... understandable, isn't it? He's wrapped up in a very warm blanket with a person who is shirtless and who he happens to find fairly attractive, so... so it's understandable that he's having some... some  _thoughts,_ isn't it? That's... not such a... a horrible thing, right? It's... it's at least  _okay,_ isn't... isn't it? Yes, that seems... acceptable, at least. Especially given the- the degree of affection he is currently receiving. The- the thoughts are okay, aren't they? Acting on those thoughts wouldn't be okay, but... thoughts alone are... are okay. Biting his lip again, he whines very softly to himself, absentmindedly tracing his fingertips in circles and then freezing when he realizes what he's doing. Oops. He... probably should not be... petting Sharpclaw's chest. 

 

 

 

 

Sharpclaw gently places one hand on the wraith's back, then pulls him just a bit closer, nuzzling sleepily at his forehead. "Hi, there. You're... pretty confused, aren't you? Because I am... not much less confused. Would you... like me to... help you figure out what you're doing?" he ventures, his voice very soft despite his uncertainty, then smiles at the tiniest little nod. "Yeah? Okay, I'm... just gonna pet your back for a minute. Do you want me to... kiss you again? Or... something else?" 

He's trying to stay calm, he really is. Calm is good, and it helps keep his poor upset companion from panicking. But he... really isn't sure what he's doing. Clearly his companion wants something from him, and he's... he can't really think of anything he  _isn't_ willing to do, at least nothing that the wraith on his chest will want, but he... doesn't know what he's doing. Should... should he offer another kiss? Or, maybe... should he try tilting the slender being's head back a bit and- 

_Would it be okay for me to kiss him on the lips? I mean, I don't really know **how,** but- but I doubt he does either, heh, and, uh... he m-might like that. So... should I? Or... no, I shouldn't ask. He'll... he might get scared. I have to wait and see if he asks. Which, uh... might... might feel nice. At the very least, I might be able to get him to stay confused and flustered, and that is way better than crying and... slicing himself open with a knife. Crying is sorta healthy, I guess, but... there is no way that cutting yourself open counts as a healthy coping mechanism. Especially when it makes someone bleed that much. And he's... still very cold. I can't tell if that's because he's just cold, or if it's actually because he bled a lot. There's... a lot of blood over there. Maybe not quite a really worrying amount, but definitely not good. And I should... should hold him like this for awhile, I suppose. Also keep him away from sharp things. Actually, yeah, I should... I need to get all the sharp things in one place and put them somewhere away from him. Maybe I should... ah, I know. I'll make him a nice big nest in one corner of the wagon, right up near me, and then put all the sharp things far away from him. And, ooh, I still have some bells. I'll put those on the crate so I'll know if he tries to open it. _

_Yeah, that... that'll work. But, uh... what else do I do? Because there is clearly something very wrong with him, just taking away the sharp things won't help with that, and... and I should probably try to handle it before we get them too far. There's a lot of stuff, though, and... clearly I won't be able to make much of a dent. Not on my own._

_And, uh, yikes. That lunatic with the ring was around for, what... few thousand years? Gah. That... yeah, that would... that'd screw anybody up. Bad. I... really hope Ma can do something about this. He's gonna need a **lot** of help, and I... do not have any idea how to do that. Maybe I should... keep doing this. He really seems to like this, even if he is confused. So I... guess I'll just... uh... keep kissing him. I... absolutely have no problems with that, heh. Nothing about this situation is at all good, but he's... he's relaxing. Just... gotta make sure he isn't trapped. _

"Okay, Spook. I'm... gonna try to help you. Uh... you can keep doin' that with your hand if you want, the- the petting. I don't mind. And I'm... going to try a few things. If you get uncomfortable at all, you need to tell me. I'm not trying to upset you, but I... don't really know what I'm doing here. So... if whatever I do isn't okay, tell me." he whispers, then very gently pulls his smaller companion just a bit closer in order to reach a few more spots.  _Okay. I'm... going to keep kissing him. Gently. Really gently. And... maybe I'll just... try kissing his jawline and see if he's okay with that. Or is- is that too- too intimate? I... don't really know. Or- heh, he doesn't know either, does he? Which means I can just... try it. If it's too much for him, that's okay, I can just... stop. Yeah, that... that'll work. I'm just... gonna try that._

And with that thought, Sharpclaw very gently presses a kiss to the wraith's jawline, smiling softly when his companion responds by tilting his head just a tiny bit back further. "Yeah? You... like that?" he whispers, then repeats the motion, very gently rubbing two fingertips along the still-too-prominent ridge of the smaller being's spine. "Alright, then... I'm gonna keep doing that. I... I have you, okay? You can just... do whatever you'd like. I have you. You're safe, you're perfectly safe. I have you." he croons, then leans down again for another soft kiss- and freezes when he doesn't quite encounter what he's expecting. The wraith turns his head, and there's no way it's accidental, and then- 

And then Sharpclaw is kissing him. On the lips. And he has... absolutely no complaints, honestly. None. 

Only for a few seconds, though, because then the lithe being goes from sprawled across his front to skittering backwards (not to mention driving a knee into his gut) and hissing between pointed teeth in alarm and trying to  _get away_ - 

 

 

 

 

_No no no no no-_

He's an _idiot_ and he never should have done that because  _that_ kind of kiss is  _always_ a precursor to things he absolutely  _does not want_ except that he  _does_ he wants he wants very badly to- 

He doesn't even know. He  _wants,_ and it is a  _physical_ desire and that  _scares_ him and he still hurts and he's probably still bloody and  _he doesn't deserve that_ and he'd be  _hurt_ if he ever suggested it and Sharpclaw somehow decided to take it because he is small and very fragile compared to Sharpclaw and he's very inexperienced and it- 

He wants something that he is terrified of and he doesn't  _deserve_ it anyway and he pushed too far and he needs to  _get away from Sharpclaw right now-_

And then a powerful hand closes around the back of his neck and he  _whines,_ shutting his eyes and just going completely still. Whining again, he curls into a tiny ball over Sharpclaw's knees (not comfortable at all) and shivers, trying to hide and trying to be  _safe_ and- 

And then Sharpclaw is very gently pulling him back up and he whimpers and scrambles and tries to escape, but it really doesn't work. Sharpclaw is far too strong and he's weak and in pain and he still just... hasn't quite healed. Things still hurt and things are weak and he... hurts. And he can't fight, he can't escape, he can... can only curl up and whimper pleadingly and hope he won't be hurt any more. He's just... very confused, very upset, and... and he just... 

But the half-goblin doesn't try anything. Instead, careful fingertips stroke ever-so-gently along his jawline for a moment, then he's cradled close with one of Sharpclaw's hands rubbing softly along his backbone. Tucking himself into a ball, he tugs the blanket up and hides his face, then gives a strangled little whine of "nnnooo" when Sharpclaw tries to uncover him. 

 

"Hey, hey... what'd I do? What's wrong? Look, I'm- I'm not  _mad_ at you or anything, I promise, I'm- I'm a little bit surprised, but that's all. Are- are you okay? Do you want me to... back off? I'm- I'm not going to try anything, okay? I'm just... I'm gonna hold you, and... I'm gonna do whatever you want, basically. Except let you run off, because you're still really cold and you need to not move too much or you'll make those cuts worse. So... you know what? You look  _beyond_ confused. So I'm gonna just... hold you here like this. And I tell what; let's just sit here. Gor's gonna be back at some point with whatever he catches, so... we are just going to sit here until your heartrate goes back down, and when Gor gets back, we'll get whatever he's caught on the fire. You probably need somethin' to eat. And after that, we'll just... go to sleep. I'm not going to offer you anything else right now, I'm not going to try anything. I want you to stop thinking for awhile, okay?" Sharpclaw whispers, then very gently takes the wraith's hand, softly placing two fingertips over the vessels in his wrist. "Here. I'm just... gonna keep track of your pulse, okay? And- you know what? I'm making this official. This is an order. Do  _not_ think about this any more. Until you've eaten, you are going to try to relax. And that is not negotiable. You are going to close your eyes and _relax,_ and I'm going to... put my other hand on your back, right here, and just pet you. Just little circles... just like this." he soothes, very softly stroking over a spot on the wraith's back. "Juuust like this. Nothing more. Nothing more complicated, nothing hard to understand, just... me trying to calm you down. That's all. I'm just going to... hold you. Okay?" 

 

Okay. 

Okay, he... he can do that. Not thinking seems... possible. And he... he understands this. Sharpclaw is very gentle and kind and likes to help, and he... he isn't quite certain what to make of that, but he understands it. Probably.

Maybe. 

Curling himself into the tightest possible ball, he covers his face and whines softly, then shuts his eyes and just trembles. And he focuses on the touches to his back, on how Sharpclaw feels when he curls up with his cheek against the hybrid's chest, and... on his own heartbeat. He can feel himself shaking, but as he becomes fully aware of that, it slowly begins to ease. He's suddenly much more aware of his pain, but... but that's what he wanted, isn't it? Except that he really doesn't want it any more, at least not this  _much,_ because it actually  _really_ hurts now and he'd like it to stop now please. Whining softly to himself, he curls into a much tighter ball and bites his lip, then whimpers and shivers when the pressure on his back increases slightly. Sharpclaw is clearly trying to help, rubbing firmly along both sides of his spine and the back of his neck, and it... actually does help. It feels... good. Very good. 

And then, of course, there's that desire again. Ugh. He... really needs to make that stop. He does. He's just... really not sure how. He could try thinking about unpleasant things, but the point here is to relax, and... the unpleasant things he can think of will not help him relax. Most of them involve goblins. So evidently he's just going to have to sit here and  _want._ It's... soft, though. It's not a demanding want, it's... gentle and slow. He just... wants. Quietly. And, after a moment or two of considering the feeling, he realizes that there's no... no physical desire to accompany it. Probably because he's in pain, but- 

And then something clicks. 

 _This_ is what he wants. He's been trying to avoid the desire because every example he can think of only reinforces the idea that sex is a rough, loud, messy affair that is often quite unpleasant for one party, and he's been struggling with the idea of  _wanting_ that, but it's  _not_ what he wants. Because he can remember something else that he's seen, a very long time ago, something that just... awoke a stirring of desire the instant he saw it. It's still a very faint memory, he doesn't remember names or faces or even where or why it was happening, but... 

 _Gentle._ That's what he remembers. Two people with their arms around each other, rocking slowly together and just... genuinely enjoying themselves and trying to bring pleasure to each other as much as to themselves and- 

And there's that prickling desire again, stronger, and- okay, this is  _absolutely_ what he wants. He wants... this, the gentle touches and strokes and attention without any push for more, except that he  _does_ want more. He... wants. Just... more. Later, though... later. He is in pain, and this is a very bad place for him to be in, so he's just going to... put that thought aside for now, no matter how much he wants. 

Or... maybe he'll... 

Inching slightly further up on Sharpclaw's frame, he chirps very softly up at the half-goblin, then presses a clumsy kiss to his jawline. He's not quite certain what he's trying to do, but he... does want to express this. He appreciates the affection, he really does, and he genuinely wants to return it. Not that he knows how, of course, but this... this made him feel nice, and he wants to share that. He... genuinely wants to make Sharpclaw feel good. He really has no idea how, but he  _wants_ to. 

 

Sharpclaw blinks in surprise, then smiles, very gently pressing a bit harder on his back. "You... decided what you want, huh? Well, I have absolutely no problems with this. I don't want you freakin' yourself out, but if you like this, go right ahead." he whispers, then smiles when the wraith awkwardly nuzzles his cheek. "It's, uh... kinda cute. I... sorta like this, honestly. Feels nice, and you're... you're smiling, you know that? Tiny bit, but yeah. And, uh... you're welcome to do just about whatever you'd like. I... don't mind, alright? If you do something I don't like, I'll let you know, but I don't think you're gonna do anything. You can, ah... kiss me all you'd like, if... that's what you want." the hybrid croons, soft and shy but not at all uncertain.

 

Sharpclaw is... his face is warm. Is that... okay? Pausing, he nuzzles lightly at the hybrid's cheek for a moment, then blinks when the unusual pinkness registers. Oh. That's... he knows what that is, doesn't... doesn't he? Yes, that means... shy. Sharpclaw is... feeling shy? Because... because of something that _he_ did? Is- is that... good? 

He likes it.

Maybe. 

It's... cute? Yes, it's... cute. Very cute. 

Oh no. Oh no that's so cute _help_. Too cute. Blushy cute Sharpclaw  _what is he supposed to do with this?_  Oh nooo. Whining softly, the wraith stares at Sharpclaw for a moment, then abruptly hides his face in the hybrid's neck and whines again. Noo. Too cute. Too precious. Much too cute.  _Oh no you're too cute what do I do with you now? Do I... keep doing this? Keep kissing you? Because clearly you like this._

Attempting to regain some of his control, he looks up at Sharpclaw again, then squeaks and whines and hides again. Nooo too cute. Sharpclaw is  _smiling_ now and his eyes are so bright and he's still blushing and  _this is the cutest thing ever. He's too big to be this cute. Oh no. I have no idea what- oh no. Noo. Cute. Too cute. Help._

He has no idea what in Middle Earth to do here, except... except maybe keep kissing Sharpclaw? And so he turns his head slightly and gently kisses the half-goblin's throat, since that's what he can reach, and then does again when Sharpclaw actually  _giggles._ Oh no. That's- oh no. So cute. So, so, so cute. Oh no.

 

"You, uh... you... like this?" Sharpclaw asks softly, then gives a tiny little whine and covers his face when the wraith experimentally nips at his collarbone. "I- oh, wow, okay, what- what are you doing?" he asks, confused and vaguely taken aback but not at all complaining. "Because, uh... it's a... little bit weird. I'm not complaining or anything, promise, but I... would like to know what you're doing. If you know. Do you have... any idea? Or... is this more an experimental thing?"

And as he talks, one hand is slowly straying up the slender being's back, just lightly rubbing along his backbone until he can very gently grip the back of the wraith's head. "Because I... don't have any objections either way. I'm... willing to try whatever it is, probably, I'm, uh... kind of enjoying this." he ventures, his voice very soft, then shivers just a tiny bit as delicate teeth prick the skin over his collarbone. Evidently his slender companion isn't done with... whatever he's doing. It... feels a lot like being tasted. Not that he... really minds that idea. Mostly because the nips are very gentle, and... and it... actually feel pretty good. It's... exciting. 

Maybe he shouldn't be letting this happen. It's... mmh. Not at all something he's really going to complain about, but he... probably shouldn't be  _interested_ right now. He'll scare his companion away. Besides... it's probably a good idea to not confuse poor Spook any more. So... so is he going to have to ask him to... stop? Because he doesn't... doesn't want to do that. 

 

Somewhat fortunately for both of them, Gor chooses that moment to charge in with a dead mountain goat held firmly between his teeth, tail waving eagerly and coat covered in ice. Tail wagging rapidly, he pads over and drops the goat near Sharpclaw, then tilts his head and leans down to snuffle in confusion. Doing things? No? But- but smell like maybe later? And- Sharpclaw's face is doing the thing with the color. Pressing his nose closer and snuffling at his Alpha, Gor lowers his tail for a moment in concentration, then backs up, steps away as he's been taught, shakes, and scatters ice and snow over just about the entire cave. 

 

Sharpclaw ducks and gently shields the wraith from Gor's indoor blizzard, then chuckles and pries himself about halfway loose. "Well, looks like Gor found us something. Here, I'd... better get that thing butchered." he sighs, gently detaching himself from the tangle of blankets and pulling his shirt back on. "You stay there, okay? Just- stay there. I'll, uh... show ya how to gut a mountain goat. Meat is tough, but they taste pretty good." he ventures, then rubs Gor between the ears when the Warg pads back over. "Good boy for hunting, good. Very good boy. Very good." 

 

He... really can't help whining when Sharpclaw pulls away from him. It's cold, and Sharpclaw is warm, and he's still curious and he still has absolutely no idea what he's doing but he  _likes_ it. 

This... might be a useful thing to watch, though. He's seen orcs skin and butcher prey before, but it's usually very roughly carved and as often as not the organs are all burst. He's... fairly sure he'd rather not eat mountain goat with the innards splattered all over it. Ew. And, honestly, he's not certain he wants to eat mountain goat in the first place- goats do not smell nice. But the same principle probably applies to other animals as well, so... he'll just watch. Though apparently he's a bit squeamish, as his stomach objects slightly to the sight of mountain goat innards.  _Ew_. 

 

 

And his gut starts doing weird things again when Sharpclaw climbs into the nest again. It's not the same feeling, it isn't disgust, but it's... there's... 

His stomach feels like it's full of moths. Big moths. And he really doesn't know what could be causing it, except that- 

Sharpclaw is shirtless and is pressing against his back with an arm around him, and there is mountain goat roasting over the fire in front of him and a hand set very gently on his stomach and he is- he's- Sharpclaw is- 

He has absolutely no idea what to do but apparently he really likes something to do with this situation and he's actually- 

_Help. Apparently this is hot and I don't know what to do about that. Except maybe just curl up and- and lean up and maybe- maybe if I just... kiss him again? Because I **want** to do something, and he... he's so  **nice,** I need to make him feel good, I just don't know  **how.** Maybe if I..._

Very slowly, he wriggles himself around to face Sharpclaw, then nuzzles tentatively into the hybrid's throat for a moment before slowly nipping at his collarbone again. Sharpclaw tastes nice, and he... he makes cute little noises when he's being nibbled on. Apparently Sharpclaw really likes this, or at least is very flustered by this, and it's so very  _cute._ And he really has no clue what to do with the flustered being who's now hugging him, but he wants to do  _something,_ so- maybe he'll just bite at this spot again? Because apparently it feels good, and... yes, they- they did agree to not do anything that confused him any more, but even though he has no idea what he's doing here, he's... he's pretty sure he knows what he wants to do. Right now, he wants to make Sharpclaw feel good, so he's... going to figure out how to do that. 

 

"I- wow. Okay. What- what're you doing? I mean, I'm not complaining, you're just- I don't- I have no idea what to  _do_ with this, oh my gosh, you're- I have absolutely no idea what I'm supposed to- ohhh gosh." Sharpclaw whispers, hiding his face behind both hands and just giggling helplessly. "Oh no. I mean, I'm not- I'm not complaining, I'm just- I don't- I have no idea what I'm supposed to do here, and you are- oh no. Oh no. You're so cute I have no idea what to  _do_ here aaand I probably shouldn't be saying this out loud, sorry, I'm just-  you're so-  _gah._ I'm not good at this. Help." he squeaks, then just collapses into helpless giggling, evidently too flustered for his brain to work all that well. He does pull himself up after a moment, though, mostly so he can speak clearly and make himself understood. "Okay, uh... look, I'm- I'm not telling you to stop, but, uh- if you keep doing that, we, ah... might end up with a bit of a problem. I'm... I'm guessing you still don't want to go any further than this sort of thing, and that's absolutely fine, but if that's still the case then you should really try to think of something to do that doesn't involve nibbling on my collarbone." he rapidly suggests then lowers one hand and lightly rests it on the wraith's back, trying to keep him from retreating again. 

 

Oh? What does he mean by-

 _Oh._ Um. Well, that's...

That is not how he would like to make Sharpclaw feel good. It is not. At all. No thank you. So he'll... ah...

Well, first he'll retreat a bit and hide against Sharpclaw's chest. And, oh, oops. Right. Sharpclaw is still not wearing a shirt. And that is... well. That is something.  _Hello, muscles._

So... what is he supposed to do here? If he edges back up, he'll be getting too close to Sharpclaw's face and engaging again. If he edges much further down, though... well, that will be awkward for entirely different reasons. And he doesn't want to move  _away,_ because it's  _cold_ and Sharpclaw is so very warm and nice and ohhh dear he's pressed very close isn't he. And Sharpclaw smells rather nice and his skin is very soft and he does not want to move away because  _yes please._ He would really like to just be- be held for awhile longer, please. Or maybe just for the rest of the night. It... keeps his eyes off of his surroundings, for one thing. He doesn't need to be looking around. There are bloody memories everywhere and actual blood in more than one place. Most of it is his blood. 

Shrinking back into himself, he stares up at Sharpclaw for a moment, then creeps further under the blanket until he's not quite touching the larger being. Poking his head out the other side of the blanket, he stares around for a moment, then sits on Sharpclaw's feet and settles himself into a comfortable position. Churring softly to the half-goblin, he offers a little smile, then relaxes and tilts his head slightly as the hybrid chuckles. Hmm?

 

"You're definitely a cat." Sharpclaw chuckles, then relaxes and just smiles at him, looking a tiny bit flustered and genuinely pleased. "I'm, uh... 'm not complaining. Ah... honestly? You can do whatever you want with me as long as it doesn't injure either one of us, okay?" he croons, then reaches over and pulls a small piece of goat off of the skewers over the fire. "Here... you hungry?" 

 

 

...why is he a cat?

But, yes, he's hungry. Very much so. He's just gonna eat the goat and be warm and try to understand  _this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO:   
> I am not done with this. In fact, I'm gonna publish it as a digital book on Amazon when it's finished. I'm going to stop this thing here at roughly 100k words, but there'll be more story after that, it's just gonna be in a second book. I won't leave a huge cliffhanger, don't worry, that's just mean. This is just getting really, really long. I mean, it's about 1k words away from the length of The Hobbit. This is 260 pages in a word doc.  
> This thing right here is basically a first draft. The book will have an edited version, and there'll be small bits of new stuff and better explanation scattered around in it, plus hopefully some art. I won't be taking this down, but the book is going to be a bit nicer, so hopefully a few people will check it out whenever it ends up being a thing.  
> I have NO idea when that will be, though. The muse has been uncooperative in this department and I'm doing a lot of stuff IRL.   
> Feel free to ask for clarification. I think I'm a bit too tired to explain this properly, but I want to get this chapter up.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for extremely cruel things being said. "Brief emotional abuse" seems like a fairly accurate description.  
> Also, uh... lots of confused fluff. Nobody involved in this really knows how to deal with their emotions towards each other. Except Gor. Gor knows what to do with everything because he only has about three emotions and one of them is "hungry".

 WHY is he so tired? 

He barely manages to keep himself awake for long enough to finish eating, and when he runs out of food, he almost immediately falls asleep. And that, in and of itself, isn't a bad thing, but... 

 

Then the screaming starts again. It's not a terribly distinct dream, no images, just- just screaming. And blood. A lot of blood. Dripping, trickling,  _gushing_ blood, soaking him, surrounding him,  _drowning_ him, flooding his nose and mouth and lungs until he can't  _breathe,_ can't  _see,_ can't even feel anything other than wet, sticky, stinking  _heat-_

 

 

 And then Sharpclaw is shaking him awake and pushing him away from the fire. Gasping softly, he stares up at the ceiling for a few minutes as the feeling (mostly) ebbs away, then coughs once, blinks, shakes his head, and sits up. Bleh. No, that- no. That was... probably an accurate representation of how much blood is on his hands, honestly, and-

No. No thank you. He did not need that reminder. 

But something is wrong. Sharpclaw is  _glaring_ at him, eyes narrowed, staring at him like- like he's just  _stabbed_ someone. Which he has, yes, but- but not _r_ _ecently,_ why- what did- what did he do? Quailing slightly, and then quailing considerably more as the glare doesn't let up, he licks his lips and glances away, then whines softly and clicks inquiringly up at the hybrid in an effort to find out what he's done wrong so he can fix it- or at least stop Sharpclaw from  _glaring_ at him, because it is making his insides do funny things and it is not at all pleasant. It scares him. He's scared, and he feels- incredibly disappointed, yes, that's- that's the feeling, something like that, he- he feels-  _guilty_ and he- 

And then the guilt is washed away by a flood of shock, horror, and overwhelming _terror_  as Sharpclaw clamps a hand around his throat. Yelping, he instinctively grabs at Sharpclaw's arm and tries to pry himself free, then keens in disbelief and slowly, slowly, goes limp. No, it- this- he's- 

...WHAT? What is this? 

 

"Yeah. About that whole 'used to be a Ringwraith' thing? I changed my mind. That's  _not_ okay, that's not at all okay. And- you know what? You think you need to be punished, you think there's something wrong with you, and, hell, I absolutely agree with you. You are a  _monster,_ a  _freak,_ not even fit to  _exist,_ and you know what? You are  _annoying!_ You can't fend for yourself, you can't help me with anything, I keep having to rescue you from things- I had to rescue you from a  _woman_ who was trying to have  _sex_ with you? Who- who is  _afraid_ of that? And you just keep  _screaming._ Stop  _doing_ that! You keep waking me up, and then I have to run off and pick you up and wrap whatever you've done to yourself up before you just bleed out, and I am  _done_ with that, I am fucking  _done!"_

Sharpclaw's yelling by the time he finishes, and he plants a knee on the wraith's narrow chest and pins him down, grabbing a dagger from nearby as he does. "You want to bleed so badly?  _Fine._ Let's see you bleed. Maybe, if you just bleed out already, I can have some fucking _peace!"_

 

...what? 

Completely shocked, he stares wordlessly up at Sharpclaw, then whimpers very, very, very softly, too stunned to process any sort of response beyond blank staring. He- he doesn't- he doesn't  _understand,_ yes, okay, he- he knows that he deserves this, yes, he deserves it, but he- but Sharpclaw actually didn't seem to believe that, why- what changed, why is he-  _why-_

It takes the glint of a knife in the firelight to break his shock. Shrieking in instinctive fright, he claws at Sharpclaw's frame for a moment, then squirms frantically in an attempt to  _get away_ from the knife arching towards his stomach- 

And he manages to squirm out of the way, just for an instant, and then the knife is slicing towards his ribcage and he  _screams_ and bucks and- 

Somehow, he gets Sharpclaw off of him. And the instant he's able, he scrambles away and gets up and tries to  _run,_ and then he just slams into a wall because he's in a  _cave,_ he has nowhere to  _go-!_

Gasping in shock and fear, he slumps against the wall and  _whimpers,_ then keens ever-so-softly in disbelief, shuts his eyes, and goes limp. He can't run. He can't hide. There is nowhere anywhere near here that Sharpclaw and Gor can't find, he can't  _run,_ he just- he-

He's helpless, completely helpless, and- 

And then he hears a noise, can't help but open his eyes, and  _yelps_ at the sight of Sharpclaw approaching him. He shouldn't be, should just- just give up, he  _deserves_ this, deserves to be punished, but he's- 

He's terrified. He can't just sit here and let himself be- 

Wait. 

Where's... where's the knife? 

And, wait- 

 

Sharpclaw edges a bit closer, reaching out with one hand, then jerks back in shock when the wraith  _yelps_ and presses even further away from him. "Woah, woah, woah, wait- what did- what'd I do?" 

 

What did he do?! He just-just tried to- 

 

Licking his lips, the wraith stares at Sharpclaw for a minute or two, then whimpers ever-so-softly when he notices something. Sharpclaw's eyes aren't- aren't hard and cold and fierce, aren't making him feel like he should really just shrivel up and die. They're... soft and worried and  _warm,_ and... and the larger being isn't getting any closer to him, isn't trying to touch him, is just-  _waiting._

For what, he doesn't know. He doesn't know what to do here, doesn't know what- what to- 

He hurts. He- he shouldn't, it was a  _dream,_ dreams aren't real, but- but it- 

Real or not, Sharpclaw just called him a monster, called him w _eak,_ tried to  _hurt_ him, and he- he's- 

And then Sharpclaw reaches for him again, and he doesn't want to, he doesn't, but- but he snarls, bares his teeth, and- 

And starts crying. He manages to keep the snarl up, manages to try to look fierce, but there are tears dripping down his face and he probably does not look fierce like that. 

 

Sharpclaw retreats a bit further, hunching into himself, then pulls his cloak further up over his frame and covers his eyes for a moment before slowly, carefully, meeting the wraith's. "Hey, hey... it's- it's okay. You were- you were just dreaming, that's all. A... a nightmare. What... what did I... oh." he whispers, slowly covering his mouth with one hand and looking... shocked. Scared. "Oh. You were- you- oh. Were- were you having a nightmare about- about  _me?"_ he asks, very softly, then bites back a whine when there's a tiny little nod in response. "Oh. Oh, no, I... that's why- why you're- oh. I'm- I"m  _sorry,_ for- for whatever I did to make you think that I-" 

Slowly, he holds out both hands, palms up, very carefully not moving any closer as he speaks. "I'm... I"m not going to hurt you. I'm not angry, and I... don't have any desire whatsoever to hurt you. I'd- I'd never hurt you, okay? I- I just won't. And I'm... I'm so sorry if I did something to scare you, and I'm not gonna come anywhere near you unless you want me to, but- I'm gonna be honest, that's- that's really, really hard, I mean, you're- you're kind of-" he whispers, then bites his lip, his voice soft and a bit uncertain as he continues, "-you're so scared, I just- I want to help you, I do, I just really, really want to go over there and hold you and help you calm down, and I know that's probably not what you need, I know I'm probably just gonna scare you if I get anywhere close to you, it's just- I really want to help, and I- I am just the sort of person who uses touch to help other people calm down, I'm sorry, I'm just- I'm gonna back up now." 

 

No. He- he doesn't- 

He's terrified, but it's not of something that's actually  _real,_ and- and Sharpclaw is gentle and friendly and- 

And he's so  _cold,_ so very, very cold, already, and Sharpclaw is  _warm_ and he- 

Slowly, he lowers himself to the ground and inches closer, just a tiny bit closer, then whines softly and very slowly reaches out with one hand. No, he- he wants to- 

He wants to be held. There is no denying it; he wants Sharpclaw to hold him,  _needs_ to be held. Except, when Sharpclaw very slowly edges towards him, he flinches back again. He can't help it. He's- he's scared. It's irrational, but he's scared. Of Sharpclaw. This person who has never done anything to hurt him, ever. 

 

"Oh, you- you actually... okay." Sharpclaw mutters, then slowly backs up, sitting back down into their nest of blankets. "Here, I'll... I'll tell you what. I'm- I'm gonna sit here, and you- you can come as close to me as you feel safe with. If you want, I'll- I'll hold you. If not, just... come here. Come away from the wall, at least, it's cold. You need to stay warm. And that- that can't be comfortable, right? C'mere, just- just come warm up, please? I-I won't touch you without permission, I  _promise,_ just- come warm up? Come be safe."

Slowly curling into himself, the hybrid tucks himself up into the smallest possible ball and does his best to look as unintimidating as he can manage, still keeping his eyes on the wraith juuuust in case. "Please?" 

 

...he's cold, yes. He's very cold. And he's scared. And shaking, which- which is not fun. He doesn't want to be shaking like this, doesn't want to be cold and scared and- 

Whimpering very, very softly to himself, he edges just a tiny bit closer, trying to force away the image of Sharpclaw lunging at him with a knife. He's just been reminded of how very much stronger than him his companion is, and... and Sharpclaw could absolutely subdue him with little to no difficulty, plus he- he might actually change his mind and decide that he doesn't want to travel with a murderer. And if that happens, at  _best_ he'll be kicked out of Sharpclaw's cart and left to starve to death or be killed by something. At worst, he'll be killed and left for the scavengers. Or, no- a quick death isn't the worst possibility, he could be given to a bunch of goblins. Granted, Sharpclaw doesn't seem the type to do that, but  _still,_ it's- it's a thing that could happen. 

But he's very, very cold, alarmingly so, and Sharpclaw isn't angry at him right now, is trying to calm him, and- and he- 

Shaking even more from a combination of the icy-cold floor and his nervousness at this situation in general, the wraith very slowly edges closer to Sharpclaw, cringing even more the closer he gets. He's starting to remind himself of a young Warg trying to avoid a beating, actually- it's a bit pathetic. He should... probably stand up. 

Which doesn't help all that much. Mostly because it increases the desire to bolt away and hide in the corner again. But he's... not going to, is he? 

No. 

He will not hide. He will not hide from Sharpclaw, because there is  _sorrow_ in those soft red eyes and he doesn't want to make that worse, he just- he wants to  _help._ And also not be cold. And he is very, very cold.

So, trying to avoid the cold and maybe get rid of that upset look in Sharpclaw's eyes, he slinks over and attempts to steal one of the blankets from Sharpclaw's nest, then whimpers softly and edges a bit further into the nest. No, he- he can't take the blankets, Sharpclaw is sitting on most of them, so he'll- he'll just have to sit in the nest and try to be tiny. 

 

"Here, sweetie." Sharpclaw whispers, edging away from the wraith and pulling some blankets up to offer him a spot, then blushes slightly and glances away at the realization of what he's just said. "Uh- sorry, I'm- I guess I'm kinda gonna say dumb stuff now? Sorry. Just- here. I'm gonna do this." he decides, tucking into a tiny ball and pulling a blanket up over himself. And he can tuck into a surprisingly small little ball- years of attempting to be less intimidating towards potential playmates had given him a lot of practice with being smaller. He was blushing, too, although that was a bit hidden by the blankets. And the darkness. 

 

Ohhh. Oh, that- oh no. 

These are very conflicted feelings now. He's still scared, but he  _knows_ Sharpclaw won't hurt him, and- oh no. That- that's- ohh. Sharpclaw is trying not to scare him, is trying very carefully not to scare him, and he- ohhh. That is CUTE. Very cute. And it's  _sweet,_ it- 

_That is far too cute. Help._

And he- he still looks  _upset,_ like- like he's- like he's done something wrong. But it- it isn't his fault! He didn't do anything. 

Suddenly desperate to get rid of that upset look, the wraith abruptly scoots forwards and just outright hugs Sharpclaw, holding him as tightly as he can manage and cooing very softly. He doesn't quite mean to, but he actually ends up speaking, whispering "no, no, sssshh" near the hybrid's pointed ears. It works, though- he feels both powerful arms wrap around him, very loose to keep from alarming him, and the tension against his frame starts to ease. 

And he wouldn't have thought it would work, but somewhat to his surprise, the gentle pressure actually feels good. Calming. He would have thought it would be alarming, but no- he can feel his own heartrate slowing. Partly because he... he has Sharpclaw pressed up against him, he can hear the other's heartbeat, and it... is very nice. Oh. 

He can't help but tense up as a hand presses to a spot over his spine, but he relaxes again when Sharpclaw just presses softly and strokes down his backbone, stopping well above his hips. 

And- oh, damn, there he goes again. He's crying again. Doesn't want to, but he- he can't help it. 

At least he can identify the cause, though, this time. It's- it's something related to relief? Yes. Relief. He's  _okay,_ he was just dreaming, it wasn't _real,_ Sharpclaw is still sweet and kind and gentle and not at all angry at him and- 

Okay, okay, he- he can deal with this. He's okay, he understands why he's crying, his stomach is full, and he's _warm_. He's... a bit tired, but he's safe. And Sharpclaw is hugging him and it feels very, very good. 

 

"Oh- aw. I gotcha." Sharpclaw croons, then smiles, approvingly rubbing his companion's spine. "Hey, there ya go- you're talking, now? Little bit? Cool. You feel like talking just a bit more? Not- not about anything serious, not if you don't want, just- any questions for me, maybe?" he ventures, glad to have the wraith making active efforts to communicate with him and wanting to keep things on a reasonably pleasant note. 

 

Yes, actually. There are quite a lot of impressive scars down Sharpclaw's side, old clawmarks from something with huge paws, and he'd like to know what they're from. Very lightly touching a set, he tilts his head slightly and looks up at Sharpclaw, then prrs inquiringly rather than trying to ask with words. Probably doesn't need words for this. 

 

"Oh, those? Uh... bear. I... was a moron. Thought maybe I could impress somebody by going and killing myself a bear. With a knife." Sharpclaw mutters, covering his face with one hand and looking thoroughly ashamed of himself. "So I, uh... I found a bear. Big bear. I got _really_ lucky, got a strike in that kept it from using one arm, but it- it objected. A lot. Only reason I'm here right now is Gor grabbed it by the scruff and managed to get it off of me. He was just about a yearling at that point, so- so not as big as he is now, but he had some incentive. That was... really idiotic of me. But-" pausing, he drags the shoulder of his cloak into view and parts the fur, showing off a stitched-up knife wound. "I won, see? Doesn't mean I'll ever do that again, that was STUPID. So stupid." 

 

After a moment of consideration, the wraith shrugs and tilts his head slightly, unable to come up with anything other than "...ssstupid" in reply. That- that is really the only way to describe it. Nobody goes after a bear, alone, and  _lives._ And when they try it and die, their story is told in taverns amongst other stories of idiots. Sharpclaw has  _seemed_ fairly intelligent up until now, so- hm, actually- he did say he was trying to impress someone, so perhaps he was fairly young at the time? Teenagers are... not smart, from what he can remember of his experiences with them. Orc teenagers are... violent. And dumb. Probably not the best comparison, but... close?

 

"Yeah, I... I did a lot of dumb things when I was a teenager, actually. Lot of crushes on people.  _Lot_ of crushes." Sharpclaw mutters, then glances down and clarifies, probably noticing his slight confusion. "Sorry, that's, uh- doesn't actually mean crushing people, it's like- you meet someone and they're kind of- of hot, and you end up sort of  _interested_ in them, so- so that. Yeah. Kept- kept trying to impress people. Who usually weren't around to see it, which- which was good, I kinda made a fool of myself. A lot." he admits, then looks down at the wraith in his lap, blushing again. "Fortunately, I seem to have gotten my common sense now. Also stopped the whole 'oh look an attractive stranger let me make a fool of myself' thing, so- yeah. I'm, uh- this was more information than you were expecting, wasn't it?" 

 

Yes. But... he's not complaining. It's interesting. And... actually kind of cute? 

_Stop being so cute! You could- could probably lead a goblin horde if you wanted to, you could definitely kill me, could probably hold your own against most warriors anywhere near your size, and you are somehow still the cutest person I can remember meeting. **How?** How can you do that? You're- ohh no. _

Hiding his face in Sharpclaw's chest to cover the silly grin on his face, he coos quietly against soft white skin, then blinks and leans back slightly when he realizes that no, Sharpclaw is still not wearing a shirt. Oh. Hello. Aaand he keeps making noises, doesn't he? Hopefully Sharpclaw doesn't m- 

...what does that expression mean?

 

Covering his mouth with one hand, Sharpclaw mutters something very, very softly, then takes his hand away in an effort to look casual. "I- I'm sorry, I- I just- you're- do you know you're- you're really cute? I- I mean- I'm sorry, I know- I know you prob-probably don't want me- don't want me saying that, and I  _promise,_ I'm not- not gonna do anything, you're just- you keep making the sweetest little noises I'm sorry. It's- you're just- sorry, I just- I- I really- mmnh. I'm sorry. Please- please don't panic, I'm not going to hurt you, I  _promise-"_ he whispers, covering his mouth again and drawing back in what is clearly an effort to be small. It doesn't entirely work, the wraith is still lying across his stomach. "Is- is that- okay?" 

 

Oh.

Apparently  _that's_ what that means. 

Oh, no, that's- that's not- it's not scary, it's- well, he's- he's not sure what it is, but it's something  _good,_ warm and soft and fluttering around his ribcage like some kind of bird. Covering his face with both hands, he squeaks very softly for a moment before peeking through his fingers up at Sharpclaw- and then immediately dissolves into soft, helpless giggles. Grabbing the nearest blanket, he shoves his face into it and hides for a moment, then slowly glances up at Sharpclaw in an attempt to see what the response is to this. He can't stop  _laughing,_ and he's not even sure at  _what,_ just- 

Trying to smother his giggling with the blanket, the wraith blinks up at Sharpclaw for a moment, then whines softly at the sensation of his own face heating up. That- that is- okay, wait,  _what_ is- 

 _Oh,_ is- is this what a blush feels like? Well, at- at least Sharpclaw probably can't see it, his skin is too dark, but- 

His half-formed attempts at processing his own emotions stutter to a halt when soft fingertips brush against his cheek, and he squeaks very softly, embarrassed, but makes no attempt to get away. Sharpclaw is  _smiling,_ blushing all the way up to his pointed eartips, and he's touching so, so  _gently-_

 

"Heh, so- so I guess you're- you're okay with- wow, alright, you're a bit more than okay with this, aren't you? Are- oh, oh  _no,_ you're blushing, aren't you? I-I can't see, but- oh, you're- ohhh sweetie do you know how cute that is? I'm sorry, I know I should probably stop talking about this, I-I know I'm probably confusing you, but it's- you're just- you're so  _cute_ I can't. You're too cute. Help." Sharpclaw squeaks, then pulls another blanket over his face and just starts giggling himself, laughing helplessly and seemingly torn between hiding and cuddling the wraith draped across him. 

 

Somewhat to his surprise, given the volatility of his emotions lately, the wraith is the first to get his giggles under control. Sitting up straight, he scrubs his hands across his face and chuckles for a second or two more, very softly, then leans in and gently pats at Sharpclaw's chest. Heck, Sharpclaw is gonna be shirtless for awhile, by the looks of things, so he- he might as well get used to it. And he- well, okay, he- he doesn't mind the view? Sharpclaw's skin is a very nice color, and soft, and the scars are interesting- and, okay, so- so are the  _muscles,_ oh gods, because Sharpclaw looks like a marble statue without the ridiculous overexaggeration of body parts- aaand that brings up the realization that statues of warriors are often naked, and, wow, okay,  _thoughts._ A lot of thoughts. Wow. 

Seeing the hybrid peeking out at him, he slowly reaches forwards and gently touches Sharpclaw's cheek, then coos again and coaxes the blanket out of the way. Cute. So cute.  _Look at you! Hello. So cute._

 

Having managed to get his giggling under control, Sharpclaw uncovers his face and blinks up at the wraith now sitting on his stomach, watching the amused golden eyes looking down at him. "Oh, look, I- look at you, you're- aw, you're less flustered than  _me._ Help. You- you're-" 

Incredibly flustered, the half-goblin sputters for a moment more, then glances down and shuts himself up when two small hands wrap around one of his. Happy to just let this entire situation proceed along whatever lines make his companion most comfortable, he allows his hand to be tugged up and pressed to the wraith's chest, relaxing as much as he can manage with the gigglefit still going. "You're, uh... you...  _like_ this? I- oh. Oh no, I- I don't- I have no idea what to  _do_ here, I'm sorry, I don't know how- how to-" he whispers, looking a bit shy as he slowly spreads his captured hand over the wraith's rapidly fluttering heart. "it's just- you're really, really cute, and you're so  _sweet,_ and you  _like_ me, I-I don't know quite how, and I won't touch you without your permission, I  _promise,_ but I- I just- I want- I want  _you._ And I don't- I don't mean physically, I promise, I-I know you wouldn't want that, I- I mean- I want you to feel good, and I want you to like yourself and I-I want you to be healthy, I want that more than  _anything,_ and I really, really to be the one to help you get there, I- I want to help, and I want you to be comfortable around me, and I want so, so badly to make you feel good in whatever way you're most comfortable with, and I- I don't- I  _absolutely_ don't mean sexually, but- but maybe another kind of physically, like maybe shoulder rubs if you feel safe with that, or- or whatever you like? Nothing, if that's what you need, and I- ah, no, I gotta shut up now or you're gonna wanna run off,  _please_ don't do that, you'll freeze and I really don't want you to leave and I didn't quite mean to say that last part, I'm sorry, 'm gonna shut up now." 

 

Oh. 

_Oh my. Oh. That's... oh. You're..._

Licking his lips, the wraith eyes Sharpclaw for a moment or two, then hunches into himself and hugs the hybrid's arm a bit tighter. That- that almost sounded like a confession, and- Sharpclaw's words seem to tumble over themselves and get away from him sometimes, that seems like what this is, but it's- it doesn't scare him, it doesn't upset him, it's a bit confusing because he doesn't know  _why_ Sharpclaw wants him, but it's- it's not just not scary, it- he- 

Slowly, he lets go of Sharpclaw's hand and leans forwards instead, very gently covering the hybrid's eyes. He's feeling shy. He doesn't want those eyes on him right now, as lovely as they are, and- 

He wants that. Sharpclaw is- is really just expressing what seems like a desire to keep doing the things he's been doing, and it- it sounds- 

He wants to feel better, and that- that part about Sharpclaw wanting to be the one to make him feel better? He wants that, absolutely, and he- he trusts Sharpclaw to keep that promise, to not try anything sexual. Sharpclaw  _always_ keeps his promises, has never come anywhere close to breaking them, and it's  _good_ and it's  _safe_ and it makes him want to come closer and try  _more._ So he's... going to try something. 

Wriggling his way up the larger being's front and keeping his eyes covered, he takes a moment to look Sharpclaw over without being seen staring, then leans down and softly, carefully, kisses him. He doesn't really know  _how,_ it's been a very long time since he's seen any kind of kiss other than just orcs biting at each other's teeth in what's more a display of ferocity and dominance than any sort of affection. There's usually blood. That is  _not_ what he wants to do here, he's- he wants to give some form of affection to reassure Sharpclaw that he isn't afraid, that the confession didn't scare him, and it- it just seems  _right_ to try something a bit more than what they've done in the past. So he tries a kiss instead, and it's awkward and their teeth click together a bit but Sharpclaw tastes  _good_ and this is  _weird_ but he kinda likes how it feels-

And before he knows it, he's crouched over Sharpclaw, staring down at him from inches away with his teeth bared and his heart racing frantically and his hands planted on the hybrid's shoulders in a way that would pin the flustered being down if it wasn't for their size difference. 

...oops? 

Is this... oops?

 

Eyes absolutely huge, Sharpclaw stares up at the wraith for a minute or two and just  _trembles,_ panting for breath, then grins lopsidedly and blushes even further. "Wow. Okay. I'm- you're-  _wow,_ that's- okay, yes, I'm- I g-guess that's- is- so you, uh, you kinda- you have some of- some of the same feelings?" he manages, watching his companion gradually retreat down against his side. "Um. I... you're... just- just gonna... curl up? Yeah, okay, sure, that's- that's fine, you- actually, tell- tell you what? You- you need to sleep. I know you're probably- probably not too fond of that idea, but- but if you don't want to- to try anyth-thing else right now, please, just- sleep? I'm- I'm tired, I know, so... how- how about you just sit there? Right- right up close to me. I'll wake you up if anything goes wrong, and you, ah- you seem to calm down a bit if- if you sleep near me? So- so let's- shall we just give it a try? Or you can, uh... can, maybe... do that again?" he ventures, blushing all the way up to the tips of his pointed ears as he stares into the lovely golden eyes of the wraith cuddled against his side. "If- if you want? No? Ah- okay. Yeah. Sorry. I'm- I'm just gonna- this." he whispers, then abruptly yanks a blanket up over his face and dissolves into silent, helpless giggles.  

 

Apparently not oops. That... seems like a good response? Flustered, but... good. And oh, oh  _no,_ Sharpclaw is  _giggling_ because of something that  _he_ did and it's so  _cute-_

Unable to quiet a soft little squeak of his own, the wraith covers his mouth and  _squirms,_ wriggling against Sharpclaw's side in what he's pretty sure is glee.  _Too cute. So cute. I can't- I- oh no he's just so adorable what do I **do** - _

_Sharpclaw stop being so **cute** I can't deal with this I can't even deal with my own emotions and you're giving me  **new** ones and making me  **feel** things- stop that!_

He really needs to get his voice fully back, because squeaking and shoving Sharpclaw's arm is probably just confusing more than anything else. Patting the spot he's just shoved, he chirps apologetically up at Sharpclaw, then snuggles down into his comfy spot and tries to relax and stop thinking things that make him want to squeal and shove his face into various surfaces. 

Partly because one of those surfaces is hmm, well,  _oh dear._ Part of the problem here. 

Also the fact that he just  _kissed_ Sharpclaw. And wants to do it again. More than once. Preferably many times more than once. 

And  _that_ is one of the thoughts that he needs to not be having! 

Oh, wait, Sharpclaw looks a bit concerned now. 

...he's digging his nails into Sharpclaw's arm. Squeaking very softly, he lets go and pats the spot in apology, then takes Sharpclaw's hand, pats it lightly, and croons up at him. Snuggling down into the hybrid's frame, he nuzzles softly at the larger being's chest, then offers him the steadiest smile he can manage and tries very hard not to cover his eyes and giggle madly. Does he- does he want to say it? He does want to explain, to be sure Sharpclaw isn't nervous, and he- oh- okay, yes, he- he should say it, partly because there's some- some possibility of Sharpclaw maybe _laughing_ again. "You. Cuuute. Ssso much cute." the wraith squeaks out, then tilts his head slightly, cooing at the look of pure  _delight_ that spreads across Sharpclaw's face. Ohhh  _no_ that's so  _precious_ he can't deal with this  _help-_

 

"Ohhh my gods,  _oh,_ you- you feel- oh,  _no,_ are you seriously telling me you-  _oh my gods-"_ Sharpclaw giggles, covering his face even more with the blanket and then peeking out. "You... you actually... you feel- oh, no, do- do you know what you are  _doing_ to me? You're so  _adorable,_ I can't  _think,_ and you just kissed me and I don't know what to do with that, or with  _any_ of this, and- okay, it is just, uh- it is very nice to know that you kinda feel the same, because now, uh- now I guess we can- heh. Now we can... be awkward together, I guess? And, uh... quietly squeal at each other. Which I'm going to do, please ignore this." he mutters, then covers his face with the blanket again, squeaking a few times before uncovering his face. "I'm sorry, I-I don't know how to respond to you other than- that. And I see you are doing the same thing. So. I'll... tell you what. I'm gonna stuff my face with goat, and you can either join me or curl up somewhere and try to sleep." 

 

Okay. That sounds fair. And he isn't hungry, so... so he'll just nap. And, to avoid flustering himself even more, he slowly turns around and curls up with his back to Sharpclaw, pressing himself gently to the hybrid but covering his eyes in order to avoid more adorableness. This is too cute and it's giving him  _emotions._ A lot of emotions. Too many.  _Help._

_Stop with the emotionssss-_

Hm. Apparently he needs a distraction. And there isn't much for him to distract himself with, so... it is time for him to eat more. Whining in complaint, he slinks just far enough out of the nest to grab a chunk of meat, then retreats back under a blanket to gnaw on- hm. This is more than he intended to grab. Ah well, he can just... 

 

 

Eat all of it. 

Whoops? 

Okay, this is... interesting. Is he supposed to be able to fit this much in his stomach? Frowning slightly, he stares down at his midsection for a moment, then reaches out and lightly pats at Sharpclaw's arm. Uh... can he get an opinion on this? 

 

"Huh. That's pretty impressive... look at you. You sure you aren't part snake?" Sharpclaw chuckles, very gently setting a hand on his stomach, then tilts his head and looks a bit confused. "Yeah, uh... not sure that's normal? Then again... neither is the rest of you, I guess. Uh... 's long as you're feelin' alright, that's... probably fine. I guess. Just... stay really warm so you can digest. I'm seriously starting to think you might be some kind of a reptile. I mean, you don't have the scales... not that I know, at least.  _Do_ you have scales? No? Hm. And you're not an amphibian, you aren't slimy and you don't live near water. Huh. You... might be a thing nobody's classified yet, I guess? Or a mammal who's not very good at being warm yet. Huh. What- what're the things that make something a mammal?" 

 

Oh, he knows what this is. Sharpclaw does this sometimes, gets started off on a line of thought and then just keeps talking to himself for awhile. It's actually kind of cute. 

Settling comfortably under the blankets with his eyes and ears uncovered just enough to let him observe, the wraith (who apparently is not a reptile? That might be good to know?) smiles softly and just watches Sharpclaw, chuckling quietly to himself at the hybrid's musings. 

 

"Uh... let's see. Fur, first. Or some kind of hair. Yep. Then, uh... babies drink milk. I... really can't check that with you. Also, uh... live birth. Again, I can't check that. And... I think breathing air is one? So yes. And then- the last one is warm blood, but I'm not really sure what the cutoff for that is. Don't  _think_ you're quite reptile-cold? So you're... possibly a mammal. I need a scientist. Where can I- no, I don't think there's anywhere I can get a scientist. Mom might know. Yeah, she- either she'll know the answer, or she'll know a scientist who does." 

 

Oh, Sharpclaw is doing that... that thing again. That thing where he gets himself set off along a line of thought and just keeps rambling until he runs out of things to say or gets distracted. It's actually very cute. 

Aw. 

Snuggling down into the blankets, the Ringwraith prurrs softly and just listens to Sharpclaw talking, eyes slowly closing. It's very cute, and... hm. He actually feels... rather nice. He's warm, mostly thanks to Sharpclaw sitting next to him, and he's absolutely safe. And he... actually doesn't have any thoughts haunting him at the moment. In fact, the... really, the only thing going through his mind at the moment is the absentminded survey of his situation. Which, overall, is... 

Good. 

This is good.


End file.
